Harry Potter and the Ultimate Showdown
by JBean210
Summary: Humor and parody with HRH crossing over into the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny. Only one will survive, I wonder who it will be? Chapter 4 features LOTR characters, plus cameos from the Matrix and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Run away!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I thought it would be interesting to cross Harry Potter with the idea of the Ultimate Showdown – since, in a sense, the premises are the same: Only one will survive, I wonder who it will be? In keeping with that premise, there will be seven chapters to this story. Disclaimer: Harry Potter and supporting characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and the various other characters who appear in this story are owned by others as well. Now, let the carnage begin!

Chapter One

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall on their first day of class; Ron was still smiling to himself and looking at the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had confiscated from a scowling fourth-year boy along the way. Hermione was scowling a bit herself, Harry thought, after seeing Lavender Brown's amused reaction to Ron playing with the Frisbee. She said nothing as they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, while Harry and Ron each tucked into helpings of porridge, bacon and eggs.

As it turned out, however, she was just concerned whether Hagrid would be upset that they weren't taking his class in their sixth years. "He can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures," she said worriedly, after taking a piece of toast to nibble on. "I mean, when has any of us expressed…you know…any enthusiasm?" she asked.

Ron swallowed an entire fried egg in one gulp. "That's it, though, innit?" he remarked plaintively. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes, 'cause we like Hagrid." He shrugged. "But he thinks we like the stupid _subject_! D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.s?"

A fluttering of wings above them announced the arrival of owl posts, and one landed in front of Hermione with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, the Wizarding newspaper. "I don't need one today," she said, mildly exasperated. "I'm going to be too busy to read it," but the owl gave her such a reproachful look that she relented, sighing, and unfastened the paper from the owl's leg, then dropped Knuts into its pouch in payment and pushed a bowl of water over in case it was thirsty. The owl hooted gratefully and began to drink. Hermione unrolled the paper and began reading the first page.

"Anyone we know dead?" Ron said automatically; he had taken to asking the question whenever he saw Hermione with the paper, initially as a joke, but it had taken on more meaning recently, with the spate of deaths in the Wizarding world.

Hermione shook her head distractedly. "No, but there's a funny article here…"

"Read it — we can use a laugh," Ron quipped.

"It's not that kind of funny, Ronald," Hermione replied, frowning, but she began to read the story:

* * *

**British, Japanese Ministers Nearly Come to Blows**

**R**ufus Scrimgeor, the new British Minister for Magic, and Otoko Miyune, his Japanese counterpart, nearly came to blows during discussions concerning the aftermath of an unusual dragon sighting in Tokyo two days ago.

The dragon, a Common Welsh Green that had been Engorged to monstrous size (over 350 feet long), is native to Wales; its appearance in the city of Tokyo, Japan, was something of a mystery. The Japanese Ministry of Magic had requested a meeting with Scrimgeour and his staff to discuss possible solutions to the problem with the two men began arguing heatedly.

"The Minister was very restrained in his response," said Percy Weasley, an assistant to the Minister. "The Japanese Minister quite overstepped himself."

"We also believe," Weasley added, "that several Japanese Aurors Engorged the Welsh Green to make it appear like the large sea monster that attacks Japan from time to time."

Other rumors, such as several humans attacking the Welsh Green, and each other, went unconfirmed by both the British and Japanese Ministries. Eyewitnesses related several startling events: a masked, dark-costumed man attacking the dragon with an incendiary device, and another person, a tall, black man in a basketball uniform who, incredibly, leaped high into the air, startling the dragon and causing it to hesitate. Reports after this become confused, stating that the men began attacking each other, seemingly at random, as the dragon jumped around, almost playfully, among the buildings of downtown Tokyo.

* * *

"Weird," Ron said, swallowing a last piece of bacon. "I guess Percy must be having the time of his life, doing all that stuff with Scrimgeour."

"But doesn't all that sound mighty _peculiar_ to you?" Hermione persisted.

Ron shrugged, and Harry gave Hermione a jaded look. "Hermione," he said with a studied indifference, "we've been dealing with dragons and Basilisks and Death Eaters for _years_, now. We've practically got Voldemort — " he ignored their flinches at the mention of the Dark Lord's name "— breathing down our necks right now, trying to kill us all and take over Britain. What else could possibly go wrong?"

At that moment there was a loud banging sound from the entrance hall, clearly heard even through the large double doors of the Great Hall, which were closed at the moment. The entire room went suddenly silent. Hermione looked significantly at Harry and Ron.

But Ron merely turned to Harry and said jauntily, "Maybe it's another mountain troll needing its nose swabbed out with your wand, Harry."

Hermione made a face of disgust. "Stop it, Ron, that's not funny."

But Harry was smiling as well. "I guess we should go see," he said, and the two of them began to walk toward the doors. They had barely gotten halfway there, though, before the doors suddenly burst open and two very strange men strode into the room.

The larger of the two men, Harry saw, was a round, beefy fellow who reminded him vaguely of Vernon Dursley, his uncle, with an oversized face and torso. Unlike Vernon's bushy mustache, however, this man sported a small, bristle-brush type under his nose. His clothes were a shabby black suit and nondescript red tie, and his head was topped with a brown derby hat. He was holding something in his hand, but before Harry could see what it was, he stuffed it into his mouth, devouring it in a single gulp that would have make Ron envious.

The man walking beside him, though of slighter stature, looked much more imposing, in an absurd way, Harry thought. Dressed in a black sailor shirt with a wide, red collar, blue bell-bottomed trousers and wearing a captain's sailing cap, he was looking around the room, seeming to look for someone. Harry could see that one of his eyes was squinted closed. His jaw jutted out almost comically, and his forearms were disproportionately larger than his biceps.

"Well, blow me down!" the man said, in a gravelly voice, upon seeing the roomful of students. A small, corncob pipe jutted from the corner of his mouth, Harry saw, keeping him from speaking very clearly. "We has crash-landed in the middle of a noisery school, Wimpy!"

"Indubitably," the other man said, mildly. "But I see no sign Olive is here." Then he spied the plates loaded with food on the four house tables, and his eyes widened as he licked his lips hungrily. "Perhaps we can persuade them to provide us with some sustenance before we resume our search, Popeye?"

"Later," Popeye growled, seeing the row of adults at the front of the Hall. "Firsk, I wants to ask if any of these folks wearing their nightclothes has seen her." He began walking determinedly toward the High Table, where the entire ensemble of teachers had stood. Snape and McGonagall, watching him approach, were talking to one another under their breath. As the man in the sailor suit came closer, Snape walked out from behind the table toward him.

Finally, when they were barely a dozen feet apart, Snape held up his hand and Popeye stopped, watching him silently. "State your business," Snape said curtly.

"I'm lookin' fer Olive Oyl," the sailor man replied, in the same tone of voice.

Snape's lip curled. "Surely, you might have picked up some at a local store in America," he said bitingly. "You hardly needed to come to _England_ for it."

"England?!" the sailor said, jerking his head so hard his cap lifted momentarily off his head, revealing a red crew cut nearly as bright as Ron's own hair. "Izzat where we is?"

"You don't know where you _are_?" McGonagall said sharply. "How did you get here?"

"Me flying boat," Popeye said, jerking a thumb behind him, obviously a gesture toward the outside of the castle. "We wuz flyin' over this place an' it suddenly conked out on us, an' we crash-landed outside." He looked back at Snape. "Olive Oyl is me goilfriend. She wuz kidnapped by Bluto."

"Why did he kidnap her?" Hermione asked unexpectedly.

Popeye and Wimpy both looked around at her. "He's _always_ kidnapping her," Wimpy said, sounding weary.

"Yeah," Popeye concurred, sounding disgusted as well. "An' when I gets me hands on 'im, I'm gonna murderlize 'im." He picked up a nearby chair and, rearing back with his fist, struck it a mighty blow. The chair shattered into flinders. Wiping his hands free of sawdust, Popeye looked squinty-eyed at Snape, dasting him to say something.

Snape wordlessly surveying the shattered pieces of the chair for a moment, then took out his wand and waved it over them. The chair immediately reassembled itself once again. There was a general exclamation throughout the Hall; Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at Hermione. "Okay, that was pretty cool," Ron said in a low voice. Harry, no fan of Snape, said nothing, though he was impressed as well.

Both the man and his traveling companion were astonished, however. "Avast there!" he shouted, looking hard at Snape. "Are you some offsprig o' the Sea Hag?!"

"Hardly," Snape said thinly, pointing his wand at the sailor's chest. "Now, let us go and examine your ship — perhaps it can be repaired, and you can be on your way again, to find your… friends."

The sailor rocked back and forth for several seconds, looking around the room at the other teachers and students, clearly spoiling for a fight. Finally, however, he stopped and said with a shrug, "Well, why nots?"

"I will return shortly," Snape said to McGonagall, not taking his eyes off the sailor and his companion as they turned and walked toward the entrance to the Great Hall. They marched through, Snape following them, and the doors shut themselves behind him. The room began to buzz with conversations.

"Did you ever see such a strange looking pair in your life?"

"Weirdest-looking guy I ever saw!"

"Can you imagine how strong he'd have to be to break a chair like that?"

Harry ignored the comments coming from all around him. As strange as the pair had been, he'd seen stranger still. All the same, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

"We need to follow Snape," he said to Ron and Hermione, in a low voice.

"Huh? What for?" Ron asked, surprised. He was chewing on a piece of bacon and reaching for yet another slice.

"We can't, Harry," Hermione insisted, looking back at the High Table. "Professor McGonagall is about to get us sorted for our N.E.W.T. classes!"

However, school activities became moot as a commotion was heard outside the doors of the Great Hall — there was shouting from both Snape and the sailor, then a loud CRASH as the doors of the Great Hall burst off their hinges and Popeye sailed into the room, falling in a crumpled heap on the floor behind the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

The room filled with shouts and screams of consternation; both Harry and Ron came to their feet, wands in hand, as did many other Gryffindors. What could have thrown a human with such force as to break apart the doors of the Great Hall?

The answer was forthcoming immediately, as a veritable mountain of a man lumbered into the room through the wrecked doorway, pulling someone along behind him. There were gasps from many in the room at the size of him — like Hagrid, he was bigger than should be allowed. He barely seemed to fit through the doorway, and though he wasn't quite as tall as Hagrid, the ferocity of his expression made him seem even larger. Also, like the Hogwarts half-giant, he was black-haired and bearded, but his eyes were hard and cruel, not crinkled nor smiling, like the gamekeeper's. He was dressed almost the same as Popeye, in a sailor's shirt and pants, and wearing a captain's cap.

The person he held by one arm was nearly as unique as him, and must be the woman the sailor referred to as his "goilfriend," Olive Oyl. A young, preternaturally thin woman, with a pleasant though plain face and dark hair pulled back in a bun similar to McGonagall's, she was fighting ineffectually against his grip. "Oh, Popeye!" she wailed, her voice nasal and annoying. "Help me!"

But Popeye, crumpled on the floor of the Great Hall, didn't look like he'd be helping anyone any time soon. Harry and Ron glanced at each other, then turned back to the giant figure now slowly advancing on the sailor's crumpled body. "Let her go!" Harry shouted as he and Ron advanced on the giant, their wands at the ready.

"Hmm?" the black-bearded man smirked at him. "Yer gonna need a bigger stick than that, sonny," he said, his voice a deep, heavy basso, "if yer gonna take on Bluto!" He actually thumped his chest proudly.

"Hold it, Harry!" another voice shouted, and Harry glanced back toward the High Table, seeing that Hagrid himself had come into the room, from the teacher's entrance. "Let _me_ have a word wit' the 'gen'leman.'" He advanced on Bluto, who watched him, scowling, until there was only a dozen feet separating them.

"Let th' woman go, an' we can talk," Hagrid said reasonably. Bluto snorted and released Olive's arm; she ran over to the body of Popeye who, incredibly, Harry saw, was still alive. Any other human would have been broken by such an impact as he'd endured. He was just stirring as Olive fell to her knees beside him, sobbing.

"Come on, ya pansy," Bluto gestured at Hagrid, both hands held out as if to wrestle with him, and Hagrid fell into a similar stance. The two began circling each other, and McGonagall began moving students toward the doors. With roars of anger, the two behemoths grappled together. Students began running toward the exits, and there were screams of panic. Hermione ran up to Harry and Ron.

"We have to go!" she said, tugging frantically at both of them, but Harry caught her arm.

"No," he said, stopping her. "I'm going to help Hagrid stop this guy, in case he needs it." She turned to Ron, who nodded as well.

"What should I do?" she asked, sounding frightened.

"Go see what happened to Snape," Harry said quickly, watching Hagrid as he and the huge human battered away at each other, each landing blows that resounded throughout the Great Hall like firecrackers in a hogshead. This Bluto seemed as tough as Hagrid — no wonder Popeye was no match against him, as strong as he'd been. The smaller sailor was now sitting up and holding his head, trying to get to his feet but being held back by the tall, thin woman, Olive, as they watched the fight between Hagrid and Bluto.

Hermione nodded and took a wide path around the combatants, slipping out into the entrance hall, just as Bluto landed a decisive blow to the side of Hagrid's head that literally knocked the half-giant into the air, landing on the Ravenclaw house table and sliding down it, knocking food and plates onto the floor until, at its far end, he came to a halt and lay still.

"Hagrid!" Ron and Harry both shouted, and Bluto turned toward them with a growl of anger. By now the Hall was empty except for the two giants, and Popeye and Olive. But, Harry then saw, Popeye's friend Wimpy was in the room as well, sitting at the Slytherin table and feasting on the plates of food left there.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at the same time pointed their wands at Bluto and shouted "_Stupefy_!" but both of the red bolts simply ricocheted uselessly off the big man's skin. He was as resistant to Stunners as Hagrid was!

Bluto turned toward the two Gryffindors and began shuffling toward them, a nasty grin on his face. Ron looked at Harry nervously. "I'm starting to remember how stupid it was, the time we attacked that mountain troll in the girl's bathroom," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"That was to save Hermione," Harry reminded him. "And we barely knew any magic back then."

"We'd better start remembering some, now!" Ron said, shrilly, as Bluto advanced on them, raising his arms menacingly.

"Shield Charm," Harry said quickly. "Now!" They both shouted "_Protego_!" and shields formed between them and the advancing juggernaut. Bluto pushed ineffectually against the invisible barriers for several seconds, frustrated. Then, he reared back, waving his fist in an ever-enlarging circle, building up momentum, then slammed it into Ron's shield. Ron shouted in surprise as the shield lifted and carried him into the air. As he began to drop, however, Harry turned and silently cast _Levicorpus_ at him — Ron's fall halted and he spun, heels over head, in midair. "Catch yourself!" Harry shouted at Ron, then cast _Liberacorpus_ to release him.

He turned around just in time to dispel his own shield as the gargantuan human swung at it, his fist hitting only empty air, and nearly falling over. Bluto looked around stupidly, then bared his yellowed teeth in a growl of anger. He began to advance on Harry.

Would _Levicorpus_ work on someone almost as big as Hagrid? Only one way to find out, Harry decided, silently casting the spell at Bluto. One of his legs jerked up, into the air. Bluto stared at it in surprise, suspended before him, then grabbed the leg and slowly began to force it back down to the ground.

Ron, now back on his feet, ran up to rejoin Harry while Bluto grunted with the effort of getting his foot back on the floor. "_Now_ what?" he muttered anxiously. "We can't stun him, he's knocked Hagrid out cold, and that other guy still looks pretty out of it." Harry glanced over at Popeye, who was rubbing his head, still trying to shake the cobwebs out.

Bluto's foot touched the ground, and, with a roar of rage, he grabbed the end of the Gryffindor table, bracing the end against his chest, and _lifted_ the entire table into the air, the far end reaching almost to the ceiling. Both Harry and Ron gaped in astonishment, too dumbfounded even to protect themselves, as Bluto began to swing the entire table at them. At the last second they dived in opposite directions, and the table slammed into the floor between them. The behemoth sailor raised it in the air again, this time aiming for Harry. Ron sent several Stunners at him, but again they bounced ineffectually off — Harry prepared to dive again, hoping that either he or Ron could survive this fight and take out Bluto before he wrecked the entire school.

As Bluto started to drop the table onto Harry, however, it froze, hovering in midair. Harry looked up, astonished, then rolled out from under it as he heard Hermione scream, "Harry! MOVE!!" Coming to his feet, Harry saw Hermione at the doorway of the Great Hall. Beside her, his wand outstretched to hold the table suspended above Harry, was Severus Snape, looking rather the worse for wear – his black hair was disheveled and there was blood and a reddish bruise on his face.

"So," Bluto rumbled, turning to see Snape. "The longhair's back, eh?" Snape pointed his wand at the giant sailor — the Gryffindor table crashed to the ground next to Harry, breaking in several places. Harry looked at it in surprise, then scowled at Snape in irritation. _He did that on purpose_, Harry thought.

"Go see to Hagrid," Snape ordered Hermione, who ran to where the half-giant lay on the Ravenclaw table. She examined him quickly and nodded to Harry and Ron. Meanwhile, Bluto was advancing on Snape, who was moving along the Slytherin table, trying to keep distance between them. At the far end of the Slytherin table, Popeye's companion, Wimpy, continued to help himself to the food there, oblivious to the fighting.

Popeye had finally regained his feet and was staring at Bluto in undisguised animosity. As Harry watched, the sailor reached into a back pocket of his bulging trousers and pulled out a can, then impressively tore off the lid with his bare hands. He tilted the can over his head and let the contents slide into his gaping mouth, swallowing the contents in three quick gulps. Harry recognized the contents as cooked spinach, a food he'd had to prepare and eat many times at the Dursley home. Dudley refused to touch it, and Aunt Petunia had forced Harry to eat it as leftovers. But now, something Harry had never seen before, something strange, began happening to Popeye.

Within moments, he became transformed. His rangy frame was now seething with power. He bent both arms, biceps bulging alarmingly large. Harry watched as anchor tattoos on each forearm swelled to double their original size. Popeye ran toward Bluto who, sensing an attack coming from a different direction, turned and lunged toward the diminutive sailor as well. But if Hagrid couldn't best this monster of a man, Harry thought, what chance did a scrawny sailor half his size have?

The answer was almost immediate — Bluto swung a massive fist at Popeye's head, only to have it stopped cold against the smaller sailor's outstretched palm. Popeye then yanked the fist toward him, pulling Bluto into reach, and connected with a right uppercut that sent Bluto soaring into the air, slamming against the roof of the Great Hall with a tremendous CRACK, then down to the floor where he landed with an equally loud BOOM.

Clambering to his feet, the hulking, black-bearded sailor reached out to grapple with his smaller adversary, but Popeye erupted in a blindingly fast series of pile-driver blows to Bluto's chest and stomach, forcing him steadily back, his heavy sailor's boots sliding across the stone floor of the Great Hall. One final blow from Popeye's fist toppled him over onto his back.

But the big sailor was up again at once and rushing forward again. Popeye rolled, almost casually, between Bluto's legs and came up behind him. Bluto, who'd tried to grab Popeye as he slipped through his legs, was now bent over double, peering at Popeye upside down; Popeye leaned down and slugged Bluto in the face, slamming his head into the floor. Bluto, now out on his feet, fell forward, his legs flying through the air to land with twin THUDs against the floor. Popeye stepped nonchalantly onto his chest, examining him for signs of faking unconsciousness. One knee began to bend and Popeye stomped on his stomach. The leg fell back to the ground. Bluto was out cold.

Harry, Ron and Hermione gathered around Bluto's unconscious body, Hermione walking slowly with Hagrid, who had regained consciousness. They were joined by Snape and Olive. Wimpy was still seated at the Slytherin table, devouring all the food in sight.

Popeye stepped down from Bluto's chest and stood beside Olive, who put her arms around his shoulders and began kissing his cheek unashamedly. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged, then at Hermione, who was smiling at the pair, blushing slightly.

The only person who wasn't smiling was Snape, who was staring at Popeye with a mixture of suspicion and incomprehension. "Excuse me," he said, finally, "but just _what_ are you supposed to be?"

"I yam what I yam, an' that's all that I yam," he replied in a singsong voice. "I'm Popeye the sailor man," and tooted his pipe twice for emphasis. Then, hoisting the unconscious body of the huge sailor over one shoulder, Popeye sauntered out of the Great Hall, followed by Olive and finally, Wimpy, who bowed slightly and tipped his brown derby to them all as he left the Hall.

"Whatever that was all about," Snape said, turning to the three Gryffindors, an eyebrow arched suspiciously at them, "I trust it will not be repeated again in this school. Ever."

"_We_ didn't do anything!" Harry replied at once. "We were as surprised as you were!"

"Is _that_ why you elected to stay and fight someone who had just knocked out the largest member of our staff?" Snape shot back. "You were too surprised to seek cover?"

"Hagrid's our friend," Hermione replied, her voice firm.

"Ah, I see," Snape said, his mouth twisting sardonically. "That's obviously why his sixth-year Care of Magical Creatures classes are all empty." Hermione winced, while Harry and Ron glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"What?" Hagrid looked at them in openmouthed shock. "But — but — I thought yeh _liked_ my classes!" He sounded devastated, Harry thought, hating Snape even more for pointing it out right now.

"It's not about _that_, Hagrid," Hermione began to say. "It's just that —" But Hagrid had turned without another word and stalked from the Great Hall, leaving the three of them upset, and Snape with a small smile of malicious triumph on his lips.

No sooner had Hagrid left the room than two more figures appeared in the ruined doorway of the Great Hall: Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, both looking very seriously at the four of them.

"We have a situation," Dumbledore began, without preamble. "I am calling all members of the staff to the staff room to discuss it." He looked at Harry and his friends. "I will want you there, Harry, and Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, as well."

"Is that wise, Headmaster?" Snape said, eyeing the three students balefully. It was well known that Snape hated Harry as much as Harry loathed him. And there was certainly no love lost between him and Ron or Hermione. "Unless you wish the whole student body to know this situation…"

"That's not fair —!" Ron began indignantly, in a rare moment of standing up to Snape, but Professor Dumbledore had put a hand, the one that had been blackened and withered by means unknown, which silenced both Ron and Snape.

"I have my reasons, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, turning to leave. "Minerva, please escort these three to the staff room. Severus, come with me." Dumbledore and Snape walked back into the entrance hall, toward the marble staircase leading to the first floor.

"Follow me, please," McGonagall said curtly, leading them across the entrance hall, to the door on the north wall that led to a long hallway where there were several unused classrooms and an entrance to the castle courtyard. Immediately inside the corridor, on the left side, was the door leading to the staff room. McGonagall led the three of them inside.

Harry remembered the room, though he had not been here since he and Ron hid in the wardrobe listening to the staff discuss one of the students being taken by the Heir of Slytherin to the Chamber of Secrets, three years earlier. The room was long and paneled, with a dozen or so chairs, of mismatched types, arranged more or less in a circle around the center of the room. Near the door was the large, dusty wardrobe where he and Ron had hidden. The room was empty; no other teachers or staff had yet arrived.

"Be seated," McGonagall told them, her manner indicating she disagreed with Dumbledore's decision to let them be a part of whatever he planned to discuss with the other teachers. "The staff will be here shortly." She left.

"What do you think?" Ron asked the moment the door clicked shut.

"Dunno," Harry said. He decided to let them in on his secret. "When — when Dumbledore came to get me," he said slowly, "he said he wanted to give me — private lessons."

"Cool!" Ron said, impressed.

"What kind of lessons?" Hermione asked, sounding interested and a trifle irritated.

"Dunno," Harry said again. "He said, 'a little of this, a little of that,' that's all."

"But how could he have known something like this was going to happen?" Hermione pondered aloud.

"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" Ron said, in a passable imitation of Hagrid's remark from the day before, when they'd seen him after the start-of-term feast. Hermione gave him a _you-think-you're-so-clever_ look.

Harry said nothing. There was nothing else to be said, he decided, until they heard from Dumbledore what this was all about.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The door to the staff room opened, and as Harry, Ron and Hermione watched, the Hogwarts teachers filed into the room, followed at last by Snape and Dumbledore. Harry looked around at the faces of the various teachers — they mostly wore expressions of concern or apprehension, though Harry noticed Professor Slughorn, the new Potions teacher, watching him from the corner of one eye. As Harry looked at him, Slughorn gave him a wink. Harry, still not quite sure what he thought of the man, even though Dumbledore seemed to like him, did not respond, but turned back to look at Ron and Hermione.

Ron leaned over and asked again, in Harry's ear, "What d'you think?"

"No idea," Harry whispered back. "But I'd like to know where Professor Dumbledore was during that fight. He could have stopped it in nothing flat."

"He might have been busy in his office," Hermione chimed in, "or couldn't hear the fight for some reason. Or, he might've —" But she stopped, because Dumbledore had begun speaking.

"I'm sure you've all either heard, or witnessed, the altercation in the Great Hall between the two American sailors," Dumbledore said, looking around the room for confirmation. Teachers were nodding their heads; Hagrid, who'd squeezed into the room as well, rubbed his jaw where the gigantic sailor, Bluto, had hit him, throwing him nearly the length of the Ravenclaw table and knocking him unconscious.

"The situation, I'm sorry to say, seems to have escalated from an isolated incident," Dumbledore continued, "specifically, the meeting in Tokyo between Rufus Scrimgeour and the Japanese Minister of Magic." He held up several piece of parchment. "I have received a number of owls from wizards in England, France, Spain, and Romania, describing similar appearances by —" Dumbledore hesitated for a moment "— well, unusual persons or beings, seeking either to start a fight with the first person they met, or looking for someone who had started a fight elsewhere, in order to exact revenge of some sort."

"So this isn't happening just to us?" Hermione asked. "It's going on in other places in England and Europe?"

Dumbledore nodded. "And around the world, it seems, Miss Granger." His piercing blue eyes moved around the room now, commanding everyone's attention. "It seems that, for unknown reasons, conflicts are breaking out among more gifted or unusual individuals. Already, the situation created by the Welsh Green sighting in Tokyo has escalated into a brawl stretching across several of the islands." His expression grew heavy, and he hesitated momentarily before continuing.

"I also regret to inform you," Dumbledore finally said. "Of the death of Rufus Scrimgeour." Several teachers leaped to their feet at this news, and there were gasps of dismay and consternation around the room. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, shocked.

"How did it happen, Albus?" Slughorn managed to make himself heard over the cacophony of voices.

"It was the Killing Curse, the _Avada Kedavra_," Dumbledore said flatly. There were additional gasps at this unexpected development. "I suspect that Voldemort took advantage of the situation, and either made his way to Japan to kill Rufus, or else sent one of his Death Eaters to accomplish the task.

"In either event," Dumbledore continued, as everyone finally settled back into their chairs. "We cannot afford to merely react to these events. We must be proactive and take the imitative, and the battle, to Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"What are you saying, Albus?" McGonagall looked at him sharply. "That we're going to go out and find You-Know-Who, and kill him?"

"Nothing quite as overt as that, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, calmly. "However, I am suggesting that we take immediate action to control unnecessary death and destruction, and assess Voldemort's involvement in the situation.

"I propose," he continued, "that members of the Order of the Phoenix will take up station in various parts of Great Britain, in order to effect this assessment, and that we report all Death Eater activity immediately to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who has taken over temporary control of the Ministry during this crisis."

"And what of the rest of us, Dumbledore?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"The other members of the staff will remain here, at Hogwarts, to protect the students, Filius," Dumbledore responded. "As we have seen, Muggle repelling charms may not be working with complete efficacy — especially, it seems, in the case of certain gifted, or otherwise unusual, Muggles."

"And what about us?" Harry asked. All heads in the room turned toward him. "Why did you ask us here?"

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "It seemed easier to simply include you in these discussions than have you creeping about, trying to discover things on your own."

Harry almost laughed at that, but decided it would be a bit too cheeky of him for even Dumbledore to ignore, so he merely nodded, a barely suppressed grin on his face. Professors McGonagall and Snape both sighed — for different reasons, Harry suspected.

"You don't expect these — these _boys_, to help defend the castle, do you, Dumbledore?" McGonagall said incredulously, pointing at Harry and Ron.

"I'll be seventeen in a few weeks!" Hermione fired up, incensed at being excluded from McGonagall's remark.

"Assuming you live that long," Snape drawled, speaking for the first time since entering the room with Dumbledore. "You would not have survived until now if that half-giant oaf who attacked me in the entrance hall had come after _you_."

"He weren't no half-giant!" Hagrid rumbled, shaking his great, black-haired head. "There was somethin' about him, though — he was tougher than any human I ever fought."

"All the more reason for you to stay at Hogwarts, Hagrid," Dumbledore pointed out. "Your own strength will come in handy, in case other unusual Muggles make it past the magical protections." The headmaster nodded to McGonagall and Snape. "Minerva, you and Severus will accompany me to my office, and from there to our new Order of the Phoenix headquarters, to coordinate with Remus and Kingsley. The rest of you," he nodded to both staff members and Harry, Ron and Hermione, "be prepared for anything. The students have been returned to the Great Hall; please see that they are informed about any further visitors we may have, and that they should not react violently without provocation." Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape swept from the room; the rest of the staff began filing out after them, leaving the three Gryffindors behind.

"So, what's the plan?" Ron asked, after the last teacher had left the room.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose we should go down to the Great Hall and let the other members of our House know what's up. We can also tell anyone else who ought to know, like Luna, and anyone in Dumbledore's Army — they should be helpful if we run into trouble."

"As unlikely as that is," Hermione added, as they started towards the doorway leading back to the entrance hall. "After all, how many Muggles are going to be able to get past those protection charms?"

As they started into the entrance hall, however, a strange whining met their ears, and Harry cautiously motioned for them to stop. The sound was coming from within the entrance hall, but they could see nothing there that could be causing it—until Ron pointed toward the center of the room, near the base of the marble staircase. "Look!"

They could see the faint outline of three glittering columns of light, transparent and human-shaped — like three ghosts — except that ghosts were supposed to be silver in color. Harry, who was carrying his Invisibility Cloak inside his rucksack, as Dumbledore had advised him, was already pulling it out. "Under here — quick!" He threw it over Ron and Hermione, and they watched, mesmerized, as the three transparent silhouettes solidified into — three humans.

Or at least, what seemed to be humans, though they were unlike any Harry had ever seen before. One, a handsome, sandy-haired man wearing a golden shirt with dark pants and boots, was looking around the room, in apparent bemusement. The other two men were dressed similarly, but in blue: one was middle-aged and square-faced, with dark hair beginning to go salt-and-pepper. Like the handsome man, he was looking around the entrance hall. The final man —

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of him. He was pale, with shiny, black hair, but his ears and eyebrows made him appear like an abnormally tall house-elf. Of the three, he seemed the least perturbed by his surroundings. After sparing a glance around, he looked down at a small black-and-silver box he was carrying in one hand.

"It appears, Captain," the tall elf-man said, "that somehow the transporter, instead of beaming us down to the planet Neural, sent us here by mistake. I suspect a cross-continuum misalignment of the Heisenberg compensators."

"Again?!" the captain said, looking annoyed. He looked at the third man. "Bones, what do you make of this place?"

"I'm a doctor, not a transporter chief," the third man, "Bones," groused. "I don't have any idea where we are!"

"I am picking up humanoid lifeforms nearby, Captain," the tall elf-man said. "It seems to be coming from that direction." He pointed directly toward where Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing. The three of them looked nervously at one another.

The elf-man then turned, pointing to the doors of the Great Hall, and added, "There are also numerous lifeform readings behind those doors."

The captain, looking first toward the trio under the Invisibility Cloak, then back at the doors to the Great Hall, finally shrugged and said, "Well, safety in numbers, eh, Spock?" He started walking toward the doors.

"As you wish, Captain," the elf-man, "Spock," said, following Kirk.

As the three men walked toward the Great Hall, Hermione whispered to Harry, "What happens when they walk in there, if the teachers haven't told everyone about thinking before they react?"

Before Harry could answer, the three men threw open the doors to the Great Hall and walked inside, where Professor Flitwick was just signaling for quiet to begin speaking. The room went eerily silent, and all eyes turned to look at the three men, while Harry, Hermione and Ron crept forward, under the Cloak, to watch.

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk," the sandy-haired man said, arms spread in a non-threatening manner. "We come in peace. We're from a — a far away place, and — and we'd like to know what this place is."

There was several seconds of absolute silence. Then, a first-year at the Slytherin table shouted, "They're _Muggles_!" and everyone leapt to their feet, pulling out wands and pointing them at the three men.

"Wait a minute!" Professor Flitwick shouted. "Just hold on!" But his voice was drowned out in the shouting of students, unnerved by the second appearance of non-magical folk at the school in a single day.

"Get them!" a voice — Harry was sure it was Draco Malfoy — bellowed, and the three men automatically dived for cover behind one of the doors of the Great Hall, as a dozen or so Stunners ricocheted off the door and nearby walls. Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly shuffled back into the entrance hall.

Behind the door, Kirk had pulled out his phaser. "Do you think that's wise, Captain?" Spock cautioned him. "We do not know the level of technology here — we could be in violation of the Prime Directive."

"Considering they just tried to hit us with _lightning bolts_, Spock," Kirk retorted, "I'm willing to take that risk." He pointed the phaser around the edge of the door and began firing toward the rows of students. Students began falling over in bunches as the stun effect hit them. The rest began panicking, running up and down along the tables, making themselves easy targets for Kirk's random firing.

"This is all a mistake!" Hermione whispered urgently to Harry. "They weren't trying to hurt anybody!"

"For not trying to hurt anyone," Ron said, watching as more students fell to the floor, stunned, "they're doing a bloody good job at it!"

"We have to stop this," Harry said, his wand already out. Ron and Hermione pulled theirs out as well. "I'm going to throw off the cloak, so we can stun them through the hole between the door and the wall. One — two — whoa!"

Three people had suddenly rushed past the trio, into the Hall — people Harry had never seen before. They were undoubtedly more interlopers, he decided; somehow attracted to this place, just as the Americans who were there earlier that morning, had been.

The three — a young, striking blonde woman, followed by another woman with reddish-blonde hair, wearing a short skirt and (weirdly) a pink sweater, and finally by a handsome, dark-haired man in a dark shirt and pants, ran into the Great Hall. The blonde woman shouted, "Everybody HOLD IT!" and everyone froze in their tracks. Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry saw Spock look at Kirk and say, "Fascinating."

"All right," the woman said, trying to remain calm, motioned for everyone to stay where they were. "Now, I don't know where we are or how we got here, but I need to get some answers, and I need them fast!"

"Buffy," the second woman said, "I think this place is magical — I can sense it all around me."

"Willow's right, Buffy," the man with them said. "We're not in a demonic dimension."

"Great," Buffy said sarcastically. "Let me add that to the list of places we're _not_." She mimed checking an item off an invisible checksheet.

Behind the door, Captain Kirk was eyeballing the curvaceous young blonde. "Hmm, not bad…"

"Aw, for God's sake, Jim," McCoy said, exasperated. "Can't you keep it in your pants for _ten minutes_?!"

"Hey, I'm a starship captain, not a doctor," Kirk reminded him. He stepped around the door, his phaser held behind his back. "Hello," he said to Buffy, trying to sound charming. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk, of the Starship Enterprise…"

Buffy looked him over coolly. "Yeah? And I'm Xena the Warrior Princess."

"Ooo!" Willow said enthusiastically. "Can I be Gabrielle?"

Buffy gave Willow an _are-you-kidding-me_ look. "I'm just being sarcastic, Willow. This guy obviously isn't Captain Kirk!"

"Well, you aren't Xena, either!" Willow said, defensively.

Still under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry, Hermione and Ron were watching the spectacle with growing concern. "This is getting weirder and weirder," Hermione said worriedly.

"Getting?!" Ron said incredulously. "Whatever made you think _that_?!"

"Quiet!" Harry said, to both of them. "We need to figure out what to do!"

"Listen," Kirk said, still trying to turn on the charm. "I really am Captain Kirk —"

"Zip it, Astro-boy," Buffy said dismissively. "I've already had my galaxy rocked, by a much better man than _you_."

"I can take care of him for you, Buffy," Angel said, beginning to vamp out. One of the Slytherins, seeing this, began to gibber and point. A cry went up among the other students.

"A _vampire_!"

"Get some garlic!"

"Get a stake!"

"Get a _grip_," Angel muttered, becoming normal again. Looking at Willow, he said testily, "You'd think I was going to bite their heads off!"

"Well, if the coffin fits," Willow said, jokingly.

But Kirk, seeing Angel's change to and from vampiric aspect, had pointed his phaser toward the dark-haired young man. "What…_are_ you?" he asked, slowly, for dramatic effect.

Angel grinned at him. "I'm Irish, me boyo," he said, reverting back to his old accent for a moment. "Kiss me!" He puckered up and pointed to his lips.

Kirk looked back at Spock. "Well, I think I've put up with enough of this — don't you think so, Spock?"

Spock sighed. "It doesn't matter _what_ I think, Captain. You're going to do what you want, anyway. You usually do."

"Ain't I something?" Kirk said offhandedly. He suddenly turned and slugged Angel in the face.

Instead of falling to the floor, however, Angel, who had merely turned his head to one side as Kirk hit him, looked back at the surprised captain, smiling. "My turn," he said, and slapped Kirk across the face. Kirk promptly sailed past Spock and McCoy, landing on the floor with a _thud_ and sliding into a corner of the Great Hall.

At that same moment, golden plates, filled with food, appeared on the four House tables as the school bells rang for lunch.

"Food fight!" one of the Hufflepuffs yelled.

The Great Hall was instantly filled with flying pieces of chicken, steak and kidney pies, corn, peas, rolls, and everything else the house-elves had carefully prepared. Angel, looking around in shock as the food had started flying, found himself grappling with Spock, while Willow ducked around behind a door of the Great Hall, joining a cowering Dr. McCoy.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, surprised to see him there. "Is this hiding place taken?"

"Not at all, my dear!" McCoy said gallantly, moving over to give her room. "Plenty of cover for everybody…"

Buffy was looking around in surprise and annoyance, as if a food fight was the last thing she'd expected to deal with, much less a horny starship captain. She suddenly sensed someone moving near her. But there was no one close… at least, she realized, none that she could _see_…she reached out, toward empty air —

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, having slipped into the Great Hall, were making their way toward the Gryffindor table (which had been turned right side up again, somehow, but was still wobbly after being broken in several places), when Buffy's hand suddenly grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and yanked it away, revealing them.

"Oh, bollocks," Ron said, his eyes widening with surprise, as all three of them realized they were visible.

"Hold it," Buffy said, dropping the Cloak and taking Ron by the arm, making him squeal in surprise and fright. "Just where the hell am I? How did we get here?"

Ron's mouth was working, but nothing was coming out. Harry and Hermione had both drawn and pointed their wands at Buffy. "Just, let him go," Harry said slowly. "Please," Harry added, making the Slayer smile. She released Ron, then folded her arms across her chest, ignoring the pandemonium going on behind her.

"Look," she said, placatingly, "I'm just trying to figure out how me and my friends got here, and how we can get home."

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, her voice tense.

"Buffy Summers. I'm a — well, I'm a Vampire Slayer."

"Right," Harry said, his tone sarcastic. "That makes sense, since you came in here _with_ a vampire, who's now fighting with some huge house-elf."

Buffy looked at Angel, still wrestling with the "Mr. Spock" doppelganger, or whatever he was. "Well, he's — that is, we're — well, it's complicated," she finally said, throwing up her hands in frustration.

Vulcan strength versus vampiric strength seemed to be almost evenly matched — neither Spock nor Angel seemed ready to give up the fight. Behind the door, Willow and McCoy were discussing mint julep recipes, and in the corner, Kirk moaned, beginning to regain consciousness. The air was still filled with flying bits of food until Professors Flitwick and Slughorn shouted out several charms — the flying food stopped suddenly, hanging in midair, then vanished.

"Right!" Flitwick shouted. "Let's have some decorum, please! Kindly _stop throwing food_!" Everyone relaxed, putting down their throwing arms.

Buffy, seeing the food fight ending, said, "Thank goodness! I was beginning to think we'd ended up in the medieval version of _Animal House_."

The only two people still struggling were Angel and Spock. Angel, swinging at Spock's face, missed, and Spock's hand finally found his shoulder, to apply the Vulcan Neck Pinch.

"Ah," Angel said, twisting his head a little to one side. "A little higher, please."

Nonplussed, Spock stopped and stared at him in shock.

Angel worked his neck a bit, looking relaxed. "Wow, that really took the kinks out. Thanks, dude."

Spock raised an eyebrow at him; then, seeing Kirk groggily regaining his feet in the far corner, hurried over to see to the captain, as McCoy joined them. "Are you alright, Jim?" McCoy asked.

"Yeah," Kirk said, touching his jaw carefully. "He just got in a lucky punch."

McCoy was running a medical diagnostic on him. "Yeah, he's pretty lucky, alright — lucky he doesn't have your brains splattered all over his hand." Kirk glared at him.

"This is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Hermione was telling Buffy, "a school for learning magic."

"Oh, how cool!" Willow, who was walking over to join Buffy, overheard this. "Maybe we could go here, instead of UC Sunnydale!"

"Will, this isn't even our universe," Buffy said, wearily.

"And, you have to have magical blood before you can even do magic here," Hermione said, sounding apologetic. "Sorry."

"Magical blood? Ewww," Willow said, looking grossed out. "I think I like our magic better — at least anybody can be a witch or warlock in our universe."

"Anybody?" Mr. Filch said, looking hopeful, until Madam Pince glared at him, then he shrugged and sat back down at the Head Table, looking annoyed.

Teachers began walking up and down between house tables, awakening students who'd been stunned by the captain's phaser fire. Captain Kirk approached Buffy slowly. "Sorry about the misunderstanding," he told her, his voice subdued and humble. "You are very hot, though," he couldn't help adding.

Buffy smiled coquettishly. "I know."

She turned to Willow and Angel. "We need to get going, we've gotta find a way back home." Before anyone could stop them, they ran into the Great Hall and dashed through the front doors, heading toward the gates to the school a few hundred yards away.

"Oh, well," Kirk said, sounding a trifle disappointed. He looked around at Spock and McCoy. "I suppose we should be going as well — assuming we can contact the ship, somehow."

"Have you tried yet, Captain?" Spock said, one eyebrow raised slightly.

Kirk thought for a second, then shrugged and reached back, over his hip, and took out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk … to Enterprise."

"Enterprise here, Captain," a familiar Scots accent said in reply.

"Three to beam up, Mr. Scott," Kirk said crisply.

"Aye, sir. Energizing…" The three men began to sparkle with golden light. Before the assembled students and teachers, they disappeared into columns of light, which faded before their eyes.

There was silence for several moments. Finally, Harry said, "That was seriously weird."

"No," Ron disagreed. "That kicked weird's _arse_ all the way round the castle."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, as I very much like the movie "The Princess Bride." I hope you enjoy reading about Harry, Ron and Hermione's interactions with Westley, Inigo, Fezzik and Vizzini. -- John**

**Chapter Three**

"Just calm down, everyone!" Professor Flitwick was still trying to restore order in the Great Hall, nearly five minutes after the three oddly-dressed men had disappeared in columns of golden light. Harry, Ron and Hermione had seated themselves at the still-wobbly Gryffindor table, trying to decide what to make of the recent "visits" from various persons, seemingly Muggles, but possessed of strange and unusual abilities, as well as the weird incidents, around England, and the world, of these and other beings getting into fights with one another.

Hermione was fidgeting in her seat. "I wonder what they're going to do about the classes we're missing," she said, fretfully.

Ron gave her a disbelieving look. "Only _you_ could be worried about classes at a time like this! Who cares?!"

"We're getting behind —"

"We'll have time to make them up, Hermione," Harry said. "Besides, half the teachers we have classes with are off with Professor Dumbledore, trying to figure out what Voldemort —" Hermione and Ron both flinched "— is up to in all this. Professor McGonagall, Snape…"

"I do have a few more classes to take than you, Harry," Hermione reminded him, not unkindly. "Professor Vector is still here, and so is Professor Slughorn, our new Potions teacher."

"Right," Harry said, but he was thinking of, and looking around for, someone else at the High Table. "Did anyone see where Hagrid went? He would've been useful in that last fight we had."

"He looked like he was going back to his cabin after the meeting in the staff room," Ron said. "He didn't look very happy with us, after what Snape said."

"Snape just couldn't resist twisting the knife in," Harry said, bitterly.

"We should go and talk to him," Hermione suggested. "Explain why we had to take other classes."

"Give him some time to cool off first," Ron cautioned, but Harry and Hermione both shook their heads.

"It's _us_, after all," Hermione said, emotionally. "He'll listen to us, won't he?"

"He will," Harry said, confidently. "Let's go." They left the Great Hall and walked to the eastern exit from the castle, near Professor Sprout's greenhouses, and around the Whomping Willow, standing silently and alone a few hundred feet from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, up to Hagrid's cabin.

They found Buckbeak, Sirius Black's hippogriff (who now belonged to Harry, in accordance with Sirius's last will and testament), tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. Hermione hung back a bit, looking at the creature nervously, and Ron stayed by her side, while Harry approached him and bowed low in front of the hippogriff, not blinking or otherwise breaking eye contact. After a few moments, Buckbeak bowed as well, and Harry approached him, to stroke his head.

"Are you missing him?" Harry said, his voice low and soothing. "You're okay here with Hagrid, aren't you, though?"

The door to Hagrid's cabin flew open with a bang, and Hermione and Ron jumped. Harry, who didn't want to startle Buckbeak, didn't react.

"Oi!" Hagrid's voice, sounding agitated, rang out from within the cabin. "Git away from him, he'll have yer fingers —" The half-giant appeared in the doorway, wearing a large, flowery apron, holding a potato and a huge paring knife.

"Oh," he said recognizing them at last. "It's yeh lot." Without further comment he turned away as Fang, his enormous boarhound, bounded forward with a joyful welcoming bark, lunging toward Ron and Hermione. The cabin door slammed shut behind Hagrid.

"Oh, dear," Hermione said unhappily, rubbing Fang's ears distractedly as she stared at the closed door. "He's upset with us."

"D'you think?" Harry snorted, his tone dripping irony. "Don't worry, he'll talk to us." He walked up to the cabin door and banged on it loudly. "Hagrid! We want to talk to you!"

There was no response from within the cabin. Harry took out his wand. "Hagrid, open up, or we'll blast it open!" Hermione gasped, and even Ron looked surprised.

"Harry!" Hermione said in a shocked tone of voice. "You can't possibly —"

"Yes, I can!" Harry snarled. "One — two —"

But before he could finish counting, the door flew open, as Harry had expected, and Hagrid stood glowering at him, a positively alarming look of outrage on his face — at least, what they could see of, through his bushy, black beard.

"I'm a teacher, Potter, a teacher!" he bellowed at Harry, who regarded him impassively, though both Ron and Hermione had taken an automatic step back as the door flew open. "How dare yeh threaten to break down my door!"

"I'm sorry, _sir_," Harry snapped, emphasizing the last word. He jammed his wand back inside his robes and glowered right back at Hagrid.

Hagrid's look of anger turned to stunned surprise. "Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"

Harry snorted. "Since you started calling me 'Potter'."

Hagrid gave him a cockeyed look. "Ar, very amusin', very clever of yeh. So that's me outsmarted, then. Fine, then, whyn't yeh come in, then, yeh — hullo, whozat?"

Hagrid was looking over their heads. The three Gryffindors looked at each other in sudden apprehension, then turned to see what Hagrid was staring at. Thirty or forty yards away, several people were walking across the grass toward the castle, apparently having come out of the Forbidden Forest. Harry could see three men and one woman; the woman seemed to be with them unwillingly, since the smallest of the men, in the lead, was dragging her by an arm. The other man was of normal height, but the last man — Harry could tell instantly that he was huge in comparison to the others; he towered over them all. At that same moment, they noticed the four of them as well, and stopped.

"Who are they, now?" Hagrid asked, of no one in particular.

"Probably more 'visitors,'" Hermione said, looking up at Hagrid. "We just came to tell you, we had several more show up in the castle, after the meeting in the staff room."

"Whyn't you tell me?" Hagrid said, completely forgetting being upset about the three of them dropping his class. "I coulda helped sort 'em out."

"There wasn't time," Harry said.

"And now these blokes, and that woman," Ron said, watching as the short man, who seemed to be in charge of the others, pointed toward the four of them. The other two men nodded and started walking their way, while the first man continued dragging the woman toward the castle.

"We better see what's up wit' these two," Hagrid said, coming out of his cabin to stand in front of it, waiting for them to approach, while Harry, Ron and Hermione lined up beside him. "Lemme do the talking," Hagrid said in a low voice, as the men continued their way.

"That tall one looks as big as you, Hagrid," Ron said softly.

"Nah," Hagrid disagreed. "He's just a little bit bigger than that other bloke this mornin'. An' _that_ 'un got in a lucky punch," he added, unnecessarily.

The shorter of the pair was handsome, in a rugged, coarse way, Harry saw, as they approached, with long, curly black hair and a short, but not well-trimmed, mustache. He was dressed in a simple shirt, trousers and brown vest. The most impressive thing about him, Harry decided, was the sword hanging from his left hip, with a very impressive hilt and pommel.

The two men stopped in front of them, the giant facing Hagrid, with the long-haired swordsman next to him, standing before Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Hello," the swordsman said politely, with a European accent Harry took as Spanish. "I hope that you can help us. We are trying to find the way to the Guilder frontier."

All four of them looked blankly at him, then at one another. None of them had ever heard of such a place.

"The…_what_?" Hermione finally asked, slowly.

"The Guilder frontier," the man repeated. "The sworn enemy of Florin, you see. We are trying to get there to —" he hesitated "— well, it is not important at the moment. The point is, we are lost."

"Lost, are yeh?" Hagrid said, not buying the story. "More likely, lookin' fer a fight."

"Sometimes," the giant replied, "but not tonight." His voice was a deep rumble, with a thick accent Harry couldn't place.

Ron giggled, then clamped his hand on his mouth, embarrassed.

"Oho," Hagrid said, amused but not convinced. "Perhaps yeh should tell us why you're _really_ here."

"We don't _know_ why we're here," the swordsman insisted. "We'd reached the top of the Cliffs of Insanity, and Vizzini was cutting the rope holding — er, never mind," he interrupted himself again. Clearly, he was hiding something, Harry thought.

Hagrid thought so as well. "Holdin' _who_," he said, stepping toward the swordsman and pointing toward the now-distant man and woman who were still heading toward the castle. "Holdin' that woman? What are yeh doing to her?"

The giant stepped forward as well, putting up his hands to keep Hagrid away from the smaller swordsman. "Inigo, watch out —!" He pushed Hagrid, shoving him back. Hagrid grabbed the giant's arms, and the two men grappled.

"Fezzik!" Inigo, the swordsman, shouted, as both giants struggled against each other. He drew his sword. Harry, Hermione and Ron immediately drew their wands.

Inigo halted, looking confused as he stared at the slender pieces of wood in the trio's hands. "Perhaps I am missing something here," he said slowly, "but I don't think wood beats steel in this case."

"You might be surprised," Ron said, sounding brave. "We're wizards."

Inigo hefted his sword. "As am I, the only man ever awarded the title of _Wizard_, in fencing." He leveled the point of his blade at Harry. "Perhaps we should see who's the better wizard, no?"

"As you wish," Harry replied, and gestured with his wand. "_Expelliarmus_!"

Inigo's sword leapt from his hand, flying into the air, where it was caught by Ron, who exchanged looks with Hermione, impressed once again by Harry's skill. The swordsman looked at them in astonishment, then turned to run, but was stopped when Hermione pointed her wand and shouted, "_Incarcerous_!" shooting ropes out of her wand and binding Inigo's arms to his sides.

Behind them, Hagrid and Fezzik were still struggling mightily against one another, slipping in and out of holds. "You're pretty good," Fezzik grunted as they strained against each other, "for an amateur."

"Amateur?!" Hagrid shouted, incensed. He began pressing his attack on Fezzik, twisting him toward submission, when Fezzik suddenly reversed the hold and locked his arms around Hagrid's neck, squeezing until Hagrid began to pass out.

"Hagrid!" Harry shouted, starting to point his wand at Fezzik, but Hagrid had already blacked out. Fezzik, unexpectedly, lowered the larger man carefully to the ground, then stood, looking impassively at Harry and Ron, who now both pointed their wands at him.

"I don't want to kill him," Fezzik rumbled in his deep voice. "Just to know where we are."

"You're — you're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Hermione said, moving carefully around Fezzik to kneel beside Hagrid. She felt his chest; it was moving, slowly but steadily. She nodded to Harry and Ron.

"Sounds impressive," Fezzik rumbled. He moved next to Inigo, the swordsman, and casually snapped the ropes holding him. Harry and Ron looked quickly at one another, but neither of them made a move to stop him.

Inigo rubbed his arms, restoring their circulation. "Your magic is much more powerful than any I've ever seen. Perhaps you can help us —"

"Well, what have we here?" a new voice, behind them, suddenly said. Turning, Harry beheld a man dressed entirely in black, even to the mask covering his face. He stood, arms folded, seemingly unsurprised to see them, despite his words.

"_There_ you are," Inigo said, as if he had expected him. "I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you. You finally made it to the top of the cliff, then."

"No thanks to you," the man said, a sneer on his lips (the only part of his face they could see, other than his eyes, which were blue).

"Why are you wearing a mask," Fezzik asked him. "Were you burned by acid or something?"

"No, they're just terribly comfortable," the Man in Black said, snarkily. "I think everyone will be wearing them soon."

"We must know who you are," Inigo insisted.

"Get used to disappointment," the man shrugged.

"Why are you following these men?" Hermione blurted. Ron looked at her, incredulous, as if to say, why are you sticking _your_ nose into this, but the Man in Black answered her.

"These men have taken the Princess Buttercup from Prince Humperdink of Florin; they intend to bring her to the frontier of Guilder, Florin's sworn enemy, where she will die, thus fomenting a war between the two countries, which is Humperdink's ultimate intent. I am here to stop them."

"H-how do you know all this?" Inigo sputtered, amazed. The Man in Black arched an eyebrow at him (which was hard to see, under his mask), saying nothing.

"We are getting nowhere fast," Inigo complained, clearly bored with asking questions and getting no answers (an all-too-familiar situation for Harry). "I will make you an offer — we will have a duel, you and I. The winner can get the help of these young wizards."

"Assuming we'll give it," Harry said, his tone doubtful. "We still don't know what any of you are up to."

"It's a deal," the Man in Black said, ignoring Harry. He pointed to Ron, who was still holding Inigo's sword. "Give him his sword back."

Ron looked at Harry, who nodded, then tossed it to the swordsman, who caught it with casual ease. Both men moved toward an open area in front of Hagrid's cabin, to begin their duel. Fezzik unexpectedly winked at the trio, then turned to watch the two men fence.

Harry slid closer to Hagrid, who was still unconscious, followed by Ron. "Let's wake him up," he whispered to Ron and Hermione. The three of them took out their wands and pointed them at the half-giant's chest.

The two men, Inigo and the Man in Black, were circling each other warily. They were both left-handed, Harry noticed. The men made short feints toward one another, both seemingly unwilling to be the first to attack. Finally, however, the Man in Black initiated a series of quick thrusts and slashes that put the Spaniard on the defensive. The two of them ranged back and forth across the grass, trading quips with one another about their fencing techniques. Fezzik, engrossed in the duel, had not bothered to see what the three of them were up to.

"Now that they're distracted," Harry said softly. "On three — two — one — _Rennervate_!" The three spells hit Hagrid in the chest at the same time. He coughed, blinking, then reached out and grabbed Harry's robe before he realized who it was.

"Wait a minute, Hagrid!" Harry hissed softly. "It's me!"

"Harry?" Hagrid mumbled, looking around, surprised to find himself on the ground once again. "Wha — wha' happened?"

"The other giant knocked you out," Harry said quickly.

Hagrid sat up. "What?!" he sputtered, indignant. "He could'na!"

"We don't have time to argue," Harry shushed him. "Listen," he said urgently. "We're going to put on my Invisibility Cloak and go after that other man and the woman. You distract the giant so he won't notice we're gone."

"Oh, I'll distract 'im all righ'!" Hagrid said emphatically. "Git behind me an' put the Cloak on!" Stepping behind his sitting form, which was still large enough to hide them from view, Harry pulled the Cloak out of his rucksack once again and threw it over them. They moved away from Hagrid, circling around the two men as they fought.

"Are yeh ready?" Hagrid looked behind him, but no one was there. "Guess they are," he muttered, then stood and tapped Fezzik on the shoulder.

"Bes' two outta three?" he asked, then grabbed Fezzik in a wrestling hold.

"Fine by me," Fezzik grunted, as they once again engaged in battle.

Under the Invisibility Cloak, the trio moved toward the castle, avoiding the Whomping Willow (no use testing whether it could detect invisible objects, Harry decided). "So," Ron asked as they shuffled along, "any idea yet where all these blokes are coming from?"

"Nope," Harry said, flatly. "I hope Professor Dumbledore can figure something out and let us know."

"There is _something_ familiar about those men," Hermione said. She seemed lost in thought as they approached the greenhouses on the castle's east side.

"Which ones?" Ron asked, "The ones from this morning, or the ones we just saw?"

"Those last ones. That name, 'Inigo,' sounds familiar." She shook her head, frustrated. "Inigo…Inigo…"

"And 'Fessick'," Ron snickered, "the rhyming giant."

They were almost inside the east exit of the castle when Hermione stopped dead, almost pulling the Cloak off them. "Fezzik! Rhymes! Ron, you're brilliant!" she said, hugging him.

"Course I am," he agreed, hugging her back. "Er — what'd I say?"

"He _rhymed_!" Hermione said excitedly. "I didn't catch it at first, but when Hagrid said something, he replied with a rhyme! I remember reading a book like that," Hermione went on quickly. "It was called _The Princess Bride_. Mum and dad gave it to me for my ninth birthday. It was about a woman named Buttercup —"

"The princess the Man in Black was talking about!" Harry interjected.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "She originally lived on a farm, tormenting a boy named Westley whom she makes do chores for her, until one day she realizes he loves her in spite of her meanness, and she loves him. So romantic…" she said, trailing off, until Ron gave her a _hurry-up-and-finish_ look.

"Sorry. Well, Westley went to sea, to make his fortune, but his ship was captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never takes prisoners." Hermione nodded back toward Hagrid's cabin. "The Man in Black is the Dread Pirate Roberts."

"So _he_ killed this Westley, in the story?" Ron asked, as they made their way through the corridors of the ground floor toward the Great Hall.

"No." Hermione looked chagrinned. "It's complicated, but Westley _is_ the Dread Pirate Roberts!"

"That doesn't make any bleedin' sense at all!" Ron snorted.

"Language, Ron," Hermione said tartly. "Well, it would, if you'd read the story."

"Skip to the end, then," Harry said impatiently. "Will this help us free the princess from the man —"

"Vizzini," Hermione interrupted. "The evil criminal genius from Sicily."

"Whatever," Harry shrugged. "Will knowing this story help us get her away from him?"

"Maybe," Hermione pondered. "He and Westley have a battle of wits to the death in the book."

"You're pretty smart," Ron told her, making Hermione blush. "Do you think you can take him?"

"No," she said emphatically. "I don't have any iocane powder, much less an immunity to it."

"What's iocane powder?" Harry asked.

"A tasteless, odorless poison," she replied. "But there's no such thing, really. It was just made up for the story."

"But," Harry said, thinking quickly, "We can find lots of poisons right here in the school — in Snape's office! Come on!" Still under the Cloak, he led them through several corridors until they reached the entrance hall, then went down the narrow stone staircase leading to the dungeons, where Snape's office was located, about halfway down the steps.

Snape usually kept his office locked; Harry had to hope that he hadn't had time before he left to apply the charms to his door. Pulling the Invisibility Cloak off them and stuffing it in his rucksack, Harry then pulled out his wand and tried the _Alohomora_ spell. It didn't work.

"Let me try," Hermione said, taking out her wand. She tried various charms, but none of them worked, either.

"No use," she finally sighed, dispirited. "He's too careful than to leave it unlocked. "There's no way in."

"We could blast down the door," Ron offered. "Or set it on fire."

"No good," Harry said. "He'd know it was us that broke in."

"Well, so what?" Ron said, heatedly. "It's for a good cause —"

"Fire!" Harry said suddenly. "Come on!" He ran up the steps, toward the entrance hall. Hermione and Ron followed, looking at one another in confusion.

Harry burst through the door in the entrance hall and started up the main staircase, toward the first floor. Several students were looking through the doorway into the Great Hall.

"Oi! Potter!" Stewart Ackerley, a Ravenclaw a few years below them, shouted as he saw them. "There's a crazy Muggle in the Great Hall, holding a woman hostage!"

Harry stopped on the landing and looked down at the Ravenclaw. "Haven't one of the teachers tried to stun him?" he asked.

"He's got a knife to her throat," Ackerley said. "Starts to cut her if anyone even _raises_ a wand!"

"Don't do anything! We'll be right back!" Harry shouted, continuing up the stairs, Hermione and Ron following, hot on his heels.

Harry ran down a hallway and stopped in front of Professor McGonagall's office. "_Alohomora_!" he said, pointing his wand at the lock. There was a click, and the three of them dashed inside, shutting the door behind them.

"_Now_ what?" Ron said, looking around. "D'you expect us to find some poison in McGonagall's office, Harry?"

"No, Harry said, pointing. "_That_."

"Ah!" Hermione said, smiling in delight. "Bravo, Harry!" Harry was pointing to the fireplace; Hermione had instantly divined his intention. Ron was nodding, impressed, as he caught on as well.

"You think we can travel by Floo to Snape's office?"

"I hope so," Harry said, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and tossing it into the fireplace. Green flames instantly swirled up, and Harry stepped into them, saying clearly, "Snape's office!" Instantly, he began spinning around, as fast as a top, until amid a blur of fireplaces and rooms, he found himself stepping out into Snape's office. Dusting himself off, Harry watched as first Ron, then Hermione appeared, moments later.

They found Snape's store of potions. "Uh, Harry," Hermione said, suddenly concerned. "You're not actually going to _poison_ Vizzini, are you?"

"No, of course not!" Harry felt slightly hurt she thought he might even consider doing so. He began looking at the various potions in Snape's stores, starting at "A," trying to find one that wouldn't necessarily be lethal. "We need something we can use to duplicate the challenge in the book, but that won't kill him. Hermione," he looked at her. "How did the hero beat this evil genius bloke in the book?"

"He put poison in goblets of wine and challenged him to choose one and drink. He'd drink the other at the same time — whoever survived was the winner."

"So how did the hero get the bad guy to drink the poisoned goblet?"

"He put the poison in _both_ of the goblets," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Harry looked at her, surprised. "He told the princess afterwards that he'd spent several years building up an immunity to iocane powder."

"So, finding something non-lethal is _definitely_ a good idea," Harry agreed. He turned back to the shelves, going through the 'B' section, taking several bottles off the shelves. "There's nothing here in the B's that work as a non-lethal poison," he said. "But we've got to find something in a hurry!" Hermione and Ron began looking at bottles as well.

"How 'bout this?" Ron, near the "D's," said a few moments later, holding up a potion marked "Draught of Living Death."

"Perfect!" Harry said, grabbing it. He turned back to Snape's fireplace, looking for a bowl of Floo powder. "I don't believe it!" he said furiously, a few moments later.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked anxiously.

"There's no damned Floo powder!" Harry said, aggravated. "We're trapped!"

"No, we're not," Hermione said confidently. She held out her left hand. In it was a handkerchief filled with Floo powder. "I grabbed some extra from McGonagall's bowl, in case there was none on this end."

"Brilliant, Hermione!" Harry said, delighted.

"Hermione, I love you!" Ron breathed, vastly relieved.

"Well, one of us has to plan ahead," Hermione said smugly. She held out the handkerchief and Harry and Ron each grabbed a pinch. A few moments later they were dashing from McGonagall's office, stopping only for a moment as Hermione restored the magical lock on the door, then down the main staircase and toward the Great Hall.

As they raced into the room, a voice rang out across the Hall, "Hold it!" They all slid to a halt. Vizzini and Princess Buttercup were seated next to each other at a corner of the Gryffindor table, farthest from the teachers' table. Vizzini, a balding, unattractive frog of a fellow; was holding a knife to the throat of the princess; she was blindfolded, and she looked unnerved, Harry thought, although she seemed alert and listening to everything that was going on around her. Beneath the knife Vizzini held to her throat, Harry could see several lines of blood leading down below the neckline of Buttercup's gown; Vizzini had come close to cutting her throat.

"If you're carrying wands," Vizzini said, his voice nasal and penetrating. "Drop them to the floor. If you point them this way, you'll be killing her." The knife moved slightly, and the princess gasped.

"Okay, okay," Harry said quickly. He, Ron and Hermione each put their wands on the floor.

"You're Potter, aren't you?" Vizzini said, eyeing him appraisingly.

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"I heard them yelling for you a few minutes ago," Vizzini said, almost conversationally. "They seemed to think —" he laughed, derisively "— you're going to _beat_ me, somehow."

"We need to talk," Harry said, his voice steady.

"There's nothing to talk about," Vizzini replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Either my men will show up shortly, and we will leave, or the Dread Pirate Roberts will arrive, and I will defeat him with my usual brilliance and continue on with the princess by myself."

"Think you're pretty smart, do you?" Harry asked, trying to mimic Professor Dumbledore's calmness.

"Let me put it this way," Vizzini sneered. "Did you ever hear of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle?"

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "So what?"

"Morons," Vizzini smirked.

"So you figure I'll be no problem, then?" Harry pondered, eyebrow arched.

The evil genius smiled arrogantly. "_You_, defeating me in a battle of wits, would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, inconceivable."

"Are you willing to test that?" Harry asked. "Your brains against mine?"

"For the princess?" Vizzini looked at him with amusement. Harry nodded.

"Why not?" the Sicilian shrugged. "It will give me something to do while waiting for the pirate." He gestured for Harry to approach the table. "Name your poison."

"Funny you should say that," Harry said. He took two nearby glasses, and with a pitcher of pumpkin juice, filled them almost full. He then took out the potion bottle. "I have here a potion that will put anyone who drinks even a bit of it into a deathlike sleep."

"Let me see it," Vizzini said, holding out his free hand. Harry handed it to him. Vizzini looked at the potion carefully, then began to hand it back to Harry. As he did, however, the bottle slipped from his fingers, smashing on the floor. There were several cries and exclamations throughout the hall — Hermione gasped as well.

"Oops," Vizzini said innocently. "Sorry about that. I seem to have broken your bottle. But don't worry," he said, reaching into a vest pocket and pulling out a small packet. "I happen to have a bit of iocane powder on me at the moment. It is one of the most deadly poisons known to man — it is odorless, tasteless, and dissolves instantly in liquid." He handed it to Harry, an evil smirk on his face. "Why don't you take those glasses to the next table and prepare them? Then, we'll find out which of us is smarter, and which of us is dead. Just be careful not to let it touch you," he added, grinning. "Otherwise this battle of wits will be over before you know it."

Wordlessly, Harry took the glasses to the Hufflepuff table, standing so Vizzini couldn't see him. He tore open the packet carefully and emptied half into one glass. Hermione and Ron were watching from near the doorway to the Great Hall; Hermione's mouth was covered, her eyes wide with fear for Harry. As they watched, Harry tipped the other half of the powder into the second glass. Hermione turned and buried her head against Ron's shoulder. Ron's eyes were boring into Harry's, trying to understand what he was doing. Harry shook his head slightly, trying to say, somehow, _It's the only way_.

Swirling both glasses slightly, he turned and walked back to the Gryffindor table. Keeping his eyes on the glass in his right hand, he sat it down in front of Vizzini who, watching him, seemed to smile slightly as Harry placed it in front of him. Harry then sat down opposite him. Both cups were still within easy reach of either of them. As Harry sat down, Vizzini took the knife away from Buttercup's neck and slid it carefully into a sheath at his belt.

"Choose whichever cup you want," Harry said. "I'll drink the other one, and we'll see who — who's right. And who's d-dead." He couldn't keep a quiver out of his voice — this wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to. But there was nothing he could do about that now.

Vizzini chuckled. "But it's simple! All I have to do is figure out, from what I know of you, whether you're the sort of person who'd put the poison into his own glass, or his enemy's?" Harry said nothing.

"Now," Vizzini continued, "a clever lad would put the poison into his own glass, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the glass in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the glass in front of me."

"Are you ready to choose, then?" Harry asked.

"Of course not!" Vizzini laughed. "Because iocane comes from Australia, as everyone knows. And Australia is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not choose the glass in front of you."

Harry knew none of this, of course. "So choose, then," he said.

"Hold on," Vizzini cautioned. "You must have suspected I would have known the powder's origin, so I can clearly not choose the glass in front of me."

"Are you going to choose?" Harry asked, trying to sound calm.

"You're a wizard," Vizzini mused, ignoring his question. "So, you could have put the poison in your own goblet, trusting your magical strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the glass in front of you. But if you also bested my Spaniard, you must also know that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the glass in front of me."

"You're just trying to trick me into giving something away!" Harry snapped. "But it won't work!"

"It _has_ worked!" Vizzini laughed. "You've given _everything_ away — I know where the poison is!"

"_Choose_, then!" Harry blazed at him.

"I will," Vizzini said. His hand reached out — then stopped, as his eyes widened in shock and amazement. "What in the world is THAT thing?!" he shouted, pointing behind Harry.

Harry whirled, trying to see what could be behind him. He half hoped that Dumbledore and the others were returning. But there was only the assembled students of Hogwarts, staring at him. After a few moments he turned around, to see Vizzini smiling smugly at him. Harry gave him a suspicious look.

"Oh, well, I-I could have sworn I saw something. No matter," Vizzini shrugged and picked up the glass in front of him. "Well, let's drink," he said. "Me from my glass, and you from yours." He held up his glass in a mockery of a toast.

Harry picked up his own glass and brought it to his lips, noticing that Vizzini did the same, but hesitated, waiting for Harry to taste first. Harry drank the pumpkin juice. Smiling and nodding, Vizzini drank from his own glass as well.

Putting his empty glass down, Harry looked at the evil little man in pity. "You guessed wrong," he said quietly.

Vizzini was openly grinning. "You only THINK I guessed wrong!" He cackled. "I switched the glasses when you weren't looking, when your back was turned!" He guffawed at the look of shock on Harry's face.

"You little fool," he said, snickering. You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is, 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia.' But only slightly less well known is this one: 'Never go in against a Sicilian when _death_ is on the line!' "

Vizzini sat back, laughing heartily at Harry's misfortune. Harry couldn't feel the poison inside him, but it must be there, slowly killing him. He knew what he had to do.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the bezoar that he'd taken from Snape's stores and threw it into his mouth, swallowing it. He stood suddenly, reaching for the other one (he'd brought two, just in case), when Vizzini grabbed for his knife, pointing it at Harry. "Too late!" He told Harry with a sneer, "There's no known antidote for iocane!" He laughed uproariously, until —

— his laughter cutting off suddenly, Vizzini toppled over onto his side on the seat. Harry leaped to his side, forcing the bezoar down the Sicilian's throat.

The Great Hall was filled with sound — people were telling each other what had happened, running back and forth aimlessly. Even the teachers were talking excitedly among themselves about what Harry had just done.

"It's okay," he said, standing to let everyone know it was over. "I gave us both a bezoar. I just hope it was… in… time —"

Suddenly, the room was spinning. Everything went dark — the last thing Harry heard and felt was the slap of cool stone against the side of his head, and the sound of his glasses breaking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

When Harry came to, he tried to sit up, but immediately fell back, exhausted. His arms and legs felt as if all the strength had been squeezed out of them. Looking around, he found himself in the school's infirmary.

He was not alone. The room was filled with students sitting or laying in beds, nursing bloody noses or bruised heads, sprained and twisted ankles and shoulders, or just looking disheveled or shaken up. Harry looked around for Ron or Hermione, worrying whether they were injured as well, but neither of them seemed to be in the room.

In the bed next to him, however, lay Dean Thomas; Harry saw that he had a black eye, and the left side of his face looked puffy. He was grimacing in pain, having evidently woken up about the same time Harry did.

"Dean!" Harry exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Oh, hey Harry," Dean looked around at him, mumbling thickly through bruised lips. "Great job beating that Muggle earlier, by the way!"

"Thanks," Harry said automatically, still anxious to find out what had happened to Dean and the others. "It looks like you were in a fight." He looked around at the rest of the infirmary. "Like a lot of people were in a fight, really."

"We were!" Dean said, becoming suddenly alert. The tall Black boy swung his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned toward Harry. He spoke in low tones, so that Harry had to lean close, to hear him. "It was the strangest bleedin' fight I've ever been in, Harry. No pun intended," he grinned suddenly. Harry smiled thinly, then nodded for him to continue.

"Well," Dean began, "After you fainted, me, Ron, and Seamus and Neville carried you up here to let Madam Pomfrey have a look at you. We just got you settled into bed when Hermione comes running in, telling Ron that there's two swordsmen fighting in the entrance hall!"

Harry blinked, surprised. "They'd been fighting in front of Hagrid's cabin when we left them. A man dressed all in black, and another one with long, black hair."

"That was them," Dean nodded. "But then things got _weird_…"

Harry looked at him curiously. "Two Muggles fighting with swords in the entrance hall, and _then_ it gets weird?"

"Wait'll you hear," Dean promised. "The front doors open, and two more blokes come in, all dressed up in old knight's clothing. One of 'em's got two coconuts in his hands, and he's banging them together, to sound like a horse trotting!"

Harry stared at him, openmouthed.

"You see what I mean, then," Dean, noticing Harry's expression, pointed out. "But the _other_ guy, now! He had a crown on his head, like a king, and a bloody big broadsword in his hand, and he says, 'I am Arthur, king of the Britons!' "

"Was he?" Harry, caught up in the story, asked automatically.

"_I _don't know!" Dean shrugged. "He obviously thought so, though, 'cause he jumped the first two guys an' started fighting them both."

"So what happened?" Harry wanted to know.

"Well, they both ran their swords through his shoulders and he dropped his sword," Dean continued. "So then he started trying to kick them, and they each stabbed him in the thigh and he fell down. Then he started crawling around trying to bite them on the ankles."

"And _then_," he went on, getting more and more agitated, "two more people ran in through the front doors and jumped halfway across the room to kick these two swordsmen on their prats!"

"Who are _these_, now?" Harry exclaimed, starting to get upset as he heard everything he'd missed.

"They didn't say," Dean shrugged. "It was a man and a woman, both of 'em dressed in black — the woman was all dressed in shiny leather, and they both had on these cool dark sunglasses. She was pretty hot, too, Harry," Dean said, waggling his eyebrows. Harry didn't say anything; Dean basically thought anything in a skirt and breathing was hot.

"Anyway," Dean went back to describing what happened, "I heard someone yell, 'Stop those two!' I thought it was Malfoy, stirring up trouble," Dean grumbled. "But then some idiot seventh-year Hufflepuffs tried to grab them, and the fight was on!

"Harry, it was bloody unbelievable," Dean marveled, shaking his head as he recalled what had happened. "They were swatting us down like flies. Even teachers couldn't touch 'em — Flitwick tried a Rope-Bind Charm and the guy just _ran up _the wall to dodge it! The fight spilled into the Great Hall and there was Stunners and Confundus spells flying around all over the place. But we couldn't _touch_ those two!" Dean sat back at last, rubbing his bruised face.

"So how'd it end?" Harry asked at last.

Dean looked up at him. His eyes were wide with fear, Harry saw. "Harry," he said, his voice full of wonderment. "A dragon showed up!"

"A _dragon_!" Harry exclaimed. "What d'you mean, it showed up? What'd it do, fly in the front doors?"

"Uh, _yeah_!" Dean nodded excitedly. "That's exactly what it did! Broke right through the front doors and came charging into the Great Hall, roaring 'Draco's here!' and that it was looking for some bloke name Einon."

"It could _talk_?" Harry blurted, dumfounded. "And — it said its name was 'Draco'?!"

"I know — I thought for a second that Malfoy had become an Animagus, but then I saw him running dead fast out through the teachers' exit," Dean shook his head. "I thought we was all goners, but those two Muggles started fighting _the dragon_. We all beat it out of there, and we — those of us with injuries — came to the infirmary. Dunno where anyone else is right now…"

Dean didn't say anything else for a few moments, and Harry tried to get his head around what his fellow Gryffindor was telling him. All day now, strange, unnatural Muggles had been showing up at Hogwarts, along with weird reports from around the world of fights breaking out among wizards and Muggles alike. Dumbledore and several other teachers had gone to investigate, but it hadn't prevented things from happening here. Harry was beginning to worry whether they would make it back.

"Have you seen Ron and Hermione?" Harry finally asked Dean, who was still sitting motionless, expressions of concern, uncertainty and perhaps fear playing across his face. Dean looked up at him, jolted out of his reverie.

"Uh, they were in the entrance hall when the big fight started with the two Muggles," he mumbled, trying to remember. "I remember Hermione trying to cast a Confundus Charm. I don't remember seeing them after that."

Harry stood. Some of his strength had returned, though he wobbled a bit, still shaky from lingering effects of the iocane powder, even though the bezoar had saved his life. "I've got to find them," he said to Dean, looking around for and finding his wand on the table beside his bed. "We've got to do something about whatever's been going on with all these strange Muggles today."

"Those two Muggles mopped up the place with us, Harry!" Dean protested, though he didn't stand to try and stop him. "And I dunno _what_ we're gonna do against a bloody _dragon_!"

Truth be told, neither did Harry. That was the basic flaw in his plan — he didn't have one. But it was better than lying around waiting for something to happen. "I'll figure that out when we get to it," he said, vaguely. Harry turned to go, but stopped and looked back at Dean.

"I see some of us from Dumbledore's Army in here," he said quietly, as Dean looked around, nodding as he recognized them, too. "You should get Madam Pomfrey to magically lock and brace the infirmary doors as best she can, and don't let anyone in unless they can answer a question only they would know." He and Dean gave each other a final nod, and Harry slipped out of the infirmary and into the corridor outside.

There was an obvious solution to figuring out where Ron and Hermione were, if they were still at Hogwarts, and Harry planned to use it. Taking his Invisibility Cloak out again, he threw it over himself then hurried up to the seventh floor where the entrance to the Gryffindor common room was located. He gave the password while still invisible, startling the Fat Lady rather severely; however, she was persuaded by the familiarity of his voice to allow him entrance. Up in his dormitory, he rummaged through his trunk, finding the folded piece of parchment hidden within it: the Marauder's Map. Given to him in his third year by Fred and George Weasley, it showed Hogwarts and the grounds surrounding it, along with the location of every student, every teacher, every ghost within its range. Tapping it with his wand, Harry muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," and anxiously went over the names appearing on it along with the diagrams of the castle, looking for Ron and Hermione. But he could not find them.

"Where could they be?" Harry muttered to himself, irritated that he couldn't find them on the Map. He did not want to consider the alternative — the Map would not show anyone who was — dead.

"That's no way to think," he told himself. He started to pace the room, racking his brain, trying to think of a spell he could use to find them. Too bad he couldn't use the Patronus Charm to find them; he'd seen Tonks send a message to the castle after she'd rescued him from the Hogwarts Express, after Malfoy had frozen him and left him under his Invisibility Cloak with his nose broken.

But wait a minute! Why _couldn't_ he use the Patronus Charm, Harry argued to himself. Tonks had intended her Patronus to reach Hagrid at the beginning of year feast, but Hagrid had been late to the feast, so _someone else there_ had gotten the message — unfortunately, it had been Snape. But if he sent his Patronus specifically to find Ron or Hermione, maybe it would go directly to them, wherever they were!

Pulling out his wand, Harry concentrated on Ron and Hermione, then said loudly, "_Expecto Patronum_!" A silvery-white stag formed in front of him, then trotted through the door of the dormitory and down the staircase, with Harry close behind it. The Patronus moved slowly enough for Harry to follow it, as he'd hoped.

He followed along several corridors on the seventh floor, finally passing a large vase and window near a corner, then entering a long corridor where the Patronus paused, pawing the floor and dipping its antlers toward the wall. Harry realized two things: first, that Ron and Hermione were probably beyond the wall; and second, upon seeing the large tapestry on the wall opposite, of Barnabas the Barmy trying to train trolls to dance ballet, that they were in the Room of Requirement. No wonder he hadn't found them on the Map, Harry realized — it probably didn't work when someone was in there, since the Room of Requirement had never shown up on the Marauder's Map!

"Go on," Harry nodded to his Patronus. "Tell them I'm here." The Patronus turned and leapt through the wall, disappearing from view. Harry waited anxiously for a minute or so, before a door finally appeared on the wall and it opened, disgorging an excited Hermione and Ron.

"Thank goodness you're okay!" Hermione exclaimed, hugging Harry quickly then stepping back to examine him critically. "You _are_ okay, aren't you, Harry?"

"Course I am," Harry said bracingly, though he still felt tired and somewhat weak. He suddenly caught the scent of something like butterbeer on Hermione's breath. "What's up with you two?"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, hesitating, and Harry suddenly got a strange feeling. "You two didn't — didn't nip into the Room of Requirement for a snog or —"

"Harry!" Hermione looked scandalized. "What would we be doing _that_ for?"

Harry gave an annoyed shrug as he looked at Ron, who was giving him a guilty-looking grin. "Oh, I dunno," he said, irritably. "It's just that all your friends are getting the crap beat out of them, and you're up here doing bloody knows what —"

"You better come in and see this, Harry," Ron cut over him, pointing toward the door. "You won't believe it."

Wordlessly, Harry followed the pair into the Room of Requirement. Inside, he looked around in surprise; he'd never seen the room in such a state as it was now. It was almost _cozy_. There was a small table and several chairs, hardly big enough for a child to sit in, and some chintz chairs of similar size. There was a fireplace with a small fire crackling pleasantly. There was another smoky aroma in the air as well, one that reminded him of tobacco. On the table he could see four pewter flagons, all filled with a brown liquid that couldn't be butterbeer, though he could detect the smell of alcohol from them.

None of this, however, compared to the surprise he felt as he beheld two tiny men, both of them staring at him with wary eyes, sitting at the table. Neither of them, Harry imagined, could stand much higher the four feet tall, even on tiptoes — and, Harry now realized, their feet seemed too large, and were covered with a mat of hair on the instep. "Who — who are you?" Harry finally asked.

"And who might _you_ be," the lighter-haired of the pair spoke up at once.

"He's Harry Potter," Hermione broke in, trying to keep the conversation cordial. "He's the one Ron and I spoke of earlier."

The one who'd spoken up before nodded, then said, "I'm Sam — Samwise Gamgee, at your service. And this here —" he gestured to his companion "— is Mr. Frodo Baggins, former owner of Bag End, of the Shire."

The two small men looked closely at Harry, and he at them. Both of them, it seemed to him, looked like children, both in stature and in features — their faces were those of young men, though the one who'd called himself "Samwise" was holding a long-stemmed pipe, the source of the tobacco aroma Harry had smelled.

"What — what are you doing here?" Harry asked. It was the only question he could think of.

Sam looked embarrassed to say. "Don't rightly know," he finally admitted, with a shrug. "We were heading to —" a look passed between him and his companion; Harry thought he detected the slightest shake of the other's head "— er, to our destination when we found ourselves near a great gate set with flying pigs on either side.

"Well, I says to Mister Frodo here, I says, 'Blamed if anyone who puts pigs on their gate, even flying ones, could be bad company. I think we should pay them a call and see if they can tell us where we are.'

"When we got to the front door, however," the other man took up the story. His voice had a haunted quality about it, as if he were carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "We realized that things were very wrong. We were not in our own lands anymore. There was a fantastic fight going on inside the front doors of this castle, with beings we had never seen before."

"An' we've seen some mighty fantastic beasts, let me tell you!" Sam added, emphatically. He started to say more, but the other one, Frodo, interrupted him.

"We don't know where we are now," he said, looking at the three Gryffindors, "but we need to find our way back home as soon as we can. We have urgent business to take care of."

Harry looked at Hermione, then Ron. Neither of them looked as if they had the least idea where this "Shire" the two little men spoke of was, much less how to get them there. "I'm sorry, we don't know how to help you do that."

"Your friends tells us that you are a wizard," the one called Frodo said, his eyes wary yet full of hope. Harry nodded. "Perhaps you know, or have heard of another wizard — one called Gandalf."

"No." Harry looked at Hermione, then Ron, but he knew their answers would be the same as his. "Who is he?"

"He's helping us defeat the Dark Lord —" Sam stopped as Frodo suddenly gripped his arm.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at one another, amazed. "How do_ you_ know about the Dark Lord?" Ron burst out.

Frodo, who had up 'til now been reluctant to speak, said, "We've been trying to stop him from returning to power for a long time now. He has been gathering forces; before long, it will be too late to stop him. We _must_ get back home, and destroy what he is trying to obtain, in order to stop him."

"What is he trying to obtain?" Hermione asked.

Frodo looked up at her, then at Sam, who studied them all very carefully for what seemed like a long time. "I think we should tell them, Mister Frodo," he said at last. "They been kindly to us, for men-beings, and don't seem the type to be on the Dark Lord's side."

"Bloody well right about that!" Ron agreed forcefully.

In reply, Frodo reached under his shirt, pulling up on a silver chain until the end appeared. Dangling upon the end of the chain was a golden ring. It glittered in the light of the fireplace, and each of the Gryffindors held their breath upon seeing its simple beauty. It seemed mesmerizing, drawing them in. Harry put out a hand to touch it —

"_No_!" Frodo said sharply, backing away. "No one can touch it but me! It has destroyed the lives of many people, over thousands of years!"

"How can that be?" Harry said, confused. "Voldemort has not been alive for even one hundred years!"

"Who?" Sam was looking at them in confusion.

"We don't know any Voldemort," Frodo said, shaking his head. He still kept his distance from them. "This is Sauron's ring."

"Sauron?" Hermione repeated. "I've never heard of a Dark Lord named Sauron."

"He has been the Master of Mordor for thousands of years," Frodo said solemnly. He was defeated by Isildur, who cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand, forcing his spirit to leave his body and hide in wastelands."

_Like Voldemort hid in Romania, after his body was destroyed_, Harry thought.

Frodo pointed to the ring on the chain. This is the One Ring, the ring that Sauron's spirit is tied to, the ring that will make him whole again, and allow him to rule the Middle World. To stop him, I must return the Ring to Mount Doom, to cast it into the fires from whence it came, and destroy it. Only that will break Sauron's power."

Harry took out his wand. "I don't know if we can help you get home," he told Frodo, "but I know someone who can, if anyone can." He turned toward the door and shouted, "_Expecto Patronum_!" A silvery stag erupted from the tip of his wand and charged into, and through, the door to the Room of Requirement.

"What did you do, Harry?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"I sent my Patronus to find Professor Dumbledore," he replied, "and tell him we need him back here." He looked at Frodo and Sam. "It's pretty obvious that Sauron isn't Voldemort," he told them, "but if you're here, it may mean that others from your world are here as well; if Sauron is as powerful as you say, we will need all the help we can get to stop him, if he comes for that Ring."

Ron and Hermione paled, and the two small men nodded, seeing the wisdom in Harry's words. "So what do we do now?" Ron, now agitated, asked. "Sit tight here, or go tell Flitwick we've sent for Dumbledore?"

Suddenly the room filled with a brilliant light. All of them shielded their eyes from the form that had appeared at the door, lessening in brightness as it settled to the floor. Harry could see that it was a phoenix, much like Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet, though it was silver instead of the characteristic red and gold of the phoenix's natural plumage. Looking up at him, the phoenix said calmly in Dumbledore's voice, "Harry, would you and your friends join us in the Great Hall as soon as possible, please?" The phoenix form then spread its wings as if to fly, but instead vanished on the spot.

"I guess that answers that question," Harry said, diffidently. The two little men were looking at each other, clearly amazed to see such a beast talking. "Professor Dumbledore is waiting for us downstairs," he told them. "He'll be able to help you. I hope," he added, almost under his breath, as the two diminutive fellows gathered up their belongings and followed them out into the corridors of the caslte.

Within a few minutes they were walking down the main staircase into the entrance hall. Ron and Hermione were pointing toward the great doors leading outside. "The dragon ripped them right off the hinges, Harry," Ron informed him, though Harry already knew that from Dean, of course. "We never even got around mentioning _that_ to you!"

"I heard about it," Harry said, looking around as they entered the Great Hall. It, too, had been quickly repaired; the doors were back on their hinges and the Gryffindor table seemed to be in one piece again. Except for the trio and their two guests, however, the room was empty — except for the High Table, at the top of the room, where several familiar faces awaited them. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape were seated at the table — the Headmaster in his customary spot at the center, with McGonagall on his right and Snape on his left.

Dumbledore, as usual, wore a calm, encouraging smile for them, but McGonagall and Snape's expressions were more stern. "What could have been so important that you needed to call us back," McGonagall began, severely. "And _who_ are those two first-years with you? I don't recognize them."

"They aren't first-years, Professor," Harry said quietly, as the five of them approached the High Table. "They're our guests, here from a place they call the Shire, in the Middle World."

McGonagall's eyes widened in surprise, while Snape's narrowed. Dumbledore's expression had not changed, except to smile a bit more as the two little men stepped forward to greet them.

"P-please, sir," Sam said, with a small, nervous bow toward Dumbledore. "I'm Samwise Gamgee, of the Shire, and this gentleman is Mister Frodo Baggins. We don't rightly know how we got here, but we need to get back home. See, we —"

"You have an important mission to complete," Dumbledore said, softly. "To return to Mordor and destroy the One Ring, Sauron's ring, in Mount Doom."

Every head in the room turned to Dumbledore in surprise. "Albus, how do you know these things?" McGonagall exclaimed. "Have you met these — these —"

"They are called 'hobbits,' Minerva," Dumbledore told her. "And no — until this moment I've never set eyes upon these two gentlemen." He stood and walked to the door in the southeast corner of the Hall. "I have, however, had the opportunity to have an interesting chat with these two young men." He opened the door, revealing two more of the half-sized men waiting behind it. They walked cautiously into the room at first, unsure of what they would find there, until upon seeing Frodo and Sam they whooped with joy and ran forward, embracing them.

"Merry!" "Pippin!" the two beside Harry exclaimed as they rushed forward. He saw that the taller of the two new little men, or "hobbits," as Dumbledore had called them, had light brown hair and a cheerful yet intelligent look upon his face. Harry gathered his name was "Merry," as he greeted Frodo and Sam enthusiastically, yet stood aside to let his companion, who seemed younger and more exuberant, do the lion's share of telling them what had happened. The younger hobbit, called "Pippin," by the others, had a head of golden, curly hair, and was chattering excitedly about meeting the great wizard, Professor Dumbledore, in a land far away, and how they'd traveled here in the wink of an eye.

Catching Harry's eye, Dumbledore turned to Snape and said, "Severus, will you and Professor McGonagall entertain our guests, please, while I have a word with Mr. Potter and his companions? Minerva, may I borrow your office for a few minutes?"

"Of course, Albus." Leaving a chagrinned Snape staring after him in disbelief, Dumbledore led the trio up to the first floor and along the corridor to McGonagall's office. When he tried the door, however, he found it locked.

"Ah, I almost forgot," Dumbledore said, taking out his wand and tapping the handle. He paused for a moment, looking at the door curiously, then opened it, ushered them inside, and shut it again behind them. As the trio watched, Dumbledore made several passes of his wand in front of the door before seating himself in McGonagall's chair. Harry couldn't help but look back at the door with a bit of apprehension; the headmaster had obviously done much more to the door than simply relock it.

"A bit of precaution, Harry," Dumbledore said, seeing Harry's look. "The information I am about to divulge should only be heard by you three." Dumbledore steepled his hands in front of him on the desk, then began.

"I had intended for you to learn this over the course of your sixth year, Harry," he said, his voice becoming more serious than Harry had heard it in a long time. "But the events of the day have made it necessary to accelerate your learning.

"I met the two young hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, in a forest in Romania. It is perhaps a coincidence that it was the same forest where Lord Voldemort spent much of his exile in the years after your parents' death and the destruction of his body. When I met them, they mistook me for another, a wizard they said was called 'Gandalf' — a person of no mean ability, to judge from their description of him."

"They mentioned a Gandalf to us as well, sir," Harry said. "But the name is unfamiliar to us."

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore concurred, "since he does not belong to this world."

"But what can we do?" Hermione asked. "There is no magic known that can move wizard-kind between worlds."

"That is not precisely true, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, though his gaze remained on Harry. "Have any of you ever heard of a…Horcrux?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at Hermione. She slowly shook her head. "What is it, Professor?"

"It is a…most unpleasant example of Dark magic," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. "I am not surprised that none of you have heard mention of it — there is almost no mention of it in all of the Library at Hogwarts, not even in the Restricted section." When Hermione looked surprised at this fact, Dumbledore added, "That was by my design, Miss Granger. I saw no reason for students to come by its knowledge easily, as some have in the past."

"So what is it?" Ron asked, voicing the obvious question.

Dumbledore smiled. "Succinct, and to the point, Mr. Weasley. The answer may not be so brief, though it does not require much to tell of one. A Horcrux is an object enchanted to hold a fragment of a wizard's soul."

"A _fragment_?" Harry echoed, as Hermione gasped. Both he and Ron looked at her quizzically. She looked from them to Dumbledore, her lips trembling.

"Harry," she said finally, her voice so subdued he could barely make out what she said. "A soul can only be divided by the act of murder."

"_Murder_?" Ron gasped. "D'you mean You-Know-Who had to _kill_ someone to make one of these Horcruxes?"

"Quite so," Dumbledore said, his voice as quiet as Hermione's. "A fragment of soul, thus torn, may be placed in an object prepared to hold it. Once done, while that object survives, the soul is protected from dying. And, so is every other part of the soul."

Harry went cold as he understood Dumbledore's meaning. "_That's_ why Voldemort didn't die when the Killing Curse rebounded from me and hit him!" he exclaimed.

Dumbledore nodded. "In tandem with the ancient protection your mother died placing on you, it utterly destroyed his body, but could not destroy the immaterial part of him. That is why he survived, and how he was able to reconstitute himself last year."

Hermione had been thinking hard. "So if this Horcrux keeps his soul bound to earth," she said, reasoning it out. "Then destroying it will allow him to be killed, won't it?"

"Excellent deduction, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, and Hermione blushed, pleased to be praised by the headmaster. "However," he went on, "it will not be quite as simple as that, since I believe Voldemort made more than one Horcrux."

"More than one?" Harry said, stunned, and Ron and Hermione looked at each other, horrified at what that thought implied. "How many?"

"Since it is well-known that seven is the most powerful number, magically, I believe that he divided his soul seven ways," Dumbledore said flatly.

"He created _seven_ of these things?" Harry said, incredulous.

"Six, actually," Dumbledore corrected him. "Those, and the fragment of soul still in his body, would mean it was divided seven ways. Until all of those Horcruxes are found, and destroyed, Lord Voldemort cannot be permanently killed. I have undertaken, these past several years, to learn all that I could about Voldemort's history, in order to determine what objects he might have used to create these Horcruxes and where he might have hidden them."

"Have you found any, sir?" Harry asked quickly, hoping that Dumbledore had already found them. In reply, Dumbledore extended his right hand, the one that had somehow been blackened and shriveled. On it, Harry could see a ring. It was the same ring the professor had been wearing when they visited Professor Slughorn, after leaving Privet Drive.

"This ring," Dumbledore said, holding it so each of them could see it clearly, "was one of the first Horcruxes created by Tom Riddle, the young man who grew up to become Lord Voldemort. I have since destroyed the Horcrux, releasing the soul within." Harry could see that the black stone set into the crudely-made ring was cracked.

"Did the ring crack when you destroyed it, sir?" he asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Unfortunately, the ring also carried a curse for anyone trying to put it on, except a pure-blood descendent of Salazar Slytherin."

"Did you try to put it on, Professor?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Why?"

But Dumbledore seemed not to have heard her. "You also destroyed a Horcrux, Harry," he said. "Though you may not have realized it at the time."

Harry, looking startled, asked "When was that?"

"When you destroyed Tom Riddle's diary. It was that diary that confirmed for me the theory that Tom had divided his soul, though I did not suspect that he had created more than one Horcrux until you recalled his boast, in the Little Hangleton graveyard, that he had gone further than any other wizard along the path to immortality."

Hermione had been looking pensive for several moments. "Professor, do you think there is a connection between this ring and the one the hobbits have?"

Dumbledore favored her with a small, pleased smile. "Excellent question, Miss Granger! But, I must admit, I do not believe there is a direct connection between the two." As Hermione blushed, his expression sobered. "However, if Voldemort has encountered anyone else from the lands of Middle-earth, as Frodo and his friends call it, then he may have learned of the One Ring as well, and may wish to possess it for his own gain."

"But what use could such a ring be to him?" Hermione wondered.

"Perhaps none," Dumbledore said with a small shrug. "But it may be sufficient to him that another 'Dark Lord' once possessed it. Tom confuses power with knowledge — for him, it is not about understanding, it is about control."

Dumbledore was about to speak further when suddenly, a silver figure passed through the door of his office and leaped onto the desk in front of him. It was a Patronus, in the shape of a cat, and it spoke to Dumbledore urgently in McGonagall's voice.

"Albus, come quickly," the Patronus said. "We are being attacked! The Great Hall!" The cat jumped back to the floor and ran out the way it had come in. Harry leaped to his feet as well, along with Ron and Hermione, but even so, Dumbledore had gained his feet and was moving quickly — but not to the door.

Snatching an item off his desk, an oddly-shaped trinket that resembled a corkscrew made from a red, shiny substance, Dumbledore tapped it with his wand. The trinket trembled for a moment and glowed blue; Harry knew that the professor had turned it into a Portkey. "We'll be landing in the entrance hall," Dumbledore said quickly, holding the item so they could each touch it. Harry and Hermione each immediately put a finger on it. "Quickly, now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore added; Ron had given him a look of trepidation, but he reached out and touched it as well. "And three — two — one — _now_ —"

There was the sensation of being grabbed behind the navel by a hook, of colors swirling madly around them, and almost immediately they were in the entrance hall, staggering as their feet hit the floor hard. Dumbledore was facing directly away from the doors to the Great Hall, and as the three of them started that way he spread out his arms, stopping them.

"The three of you stay out here," he said quickly in a low voice. "If anyone attacks you, try to get away, but don't hesitate to defend yourself." He turned and moved quickly to the doors of the Hall, which had been thrown open. Harry and the others stared in shock at what they saw: the Great Hall was _burning_.

Flames were roaring around the entrance to the Hall, nearly obscuring it, but Dumbledore passed through them without breaking stride, and out of view. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other for only a moment before racing forward, to nearly the edge of the flames. As they did, the flames died down and parted, and they burst into the Great Hall.

It was once again in shambles, and now a smoky ruin to boot. The four House tables had been crumpled against either wall, and were still smoldering, though only a few fires were still burning among the wreckage. In the center of the hall stood an old man, dressed in white and wielding a long, white staff, a staff that was now blazing forth with white-hot flames that surged around Dumbledore, who was standing his ground forty feet away, directly in front of them.

"Gandalf, NOO!" One of the hobbits — Harry saw through the smoke now beginning to fill the room that it was Frodo, standing over the fallen figure of Professor McGonagall, who was calling out to the man who'd unleashed a hell-like fury at the Hogwarts Headmaster. The other hobbits, Harry saw, were cowering behind the chairs of the High Table.

But Gandalf — if that was who the white-robed wizard was — paid no heed to Frodo's word. Instead, he continued furiously attacking Dumbledore with bolts of white fire, bolts which Dumbledore deflected into the floor and ceiling of the Great Hall, leaving great gouges and scars. There was no expression on his face, Harry saw, except concentration. He was fully occupied with defending himself, and could not yet mount a counterattack.

Harry's wand came up automatically, pointing toward the white wizard, and he shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!" But though the bolt struck Galdalf's staff, it did not fly from his hand. Instead, it pointed toward them and a white-hot tongue of fire rushed toward them.

"_Protego_!" Hermione screamed, brandishing her wand before Harry could recover. The shield held as white-hot fire struck it, setting the doors of the Hall on fire again. At the same moment, Ron pulled out his wand as well, wanting to do something to help, but not knowing what.

Finally, he pointed his wand over the edge of Hermione's Shield Charm and shouted, "_Aguamenti_!" The stream of water hit Gandalf in the head, startling him, and the flames attacking Dumbledore ceased momentarily. A second later, at a gesture from Dumbledore's wand, the white staff flew from Gandalf's hand and was caught by the Hogwarts Headmaster.

Disarmed, the wizard stared fiercely at Dumbledore as he waved his wand a final time. The flames still burning in the Hall all died out, and Dumbledore regarded Gandalf calmly.

"Gandalf, we're _fine_!" Frodo was now running toward the white-robed figure, who turned to look at him. "They haven't harmed us!"

Gandalf bent down on one knee as Frodo reached him. They were now almost eye-to-eye. "Are you sure, Frodo?" he asked, his voice deep yet melodic, similar in a way to Dumbledore's but more powerful-sounding. "I've had some nasty business with a couple of these 'wizards' since coming here."

"They've been nothing but kind to us," Frodo averred. "They took us in and gave us drink and a place to rest, and they'd found Merry and Pippin as well!"

Dumbledore was approaching the pair, and as he reached them the white-robed wizard stood and regarded him. "I may have been a bit hasty in attacking you and your fellows upon my arrival here," he said, a bit awkwardly. "I have been terribly worried about what might have happened to Frodo and the others."

"Quite understandable," Dumbledore agreed, returning the white staff to Gandalf. "And no harm done. Or at least," he added, looking around smoldering walls and wreckage lying about, "nothing that's irreparable."

"Good news for all concerned," Snape, rising up from behind the Great Table, said sourly. Harry suppressed a laugh; much of Snape's long, greasy hair, as well as his eyebrows, had been singed off.

In short order the damage to the Great Hall and its contents were repaired, Professor McGonagall was revived, and Snape's hair and eyebrows were restored, although Harry wished Colin Creevy could have been there with his camera.

Dumbledore and Gandalf were seated together at the High Table, with the four hobbits seated behind Gandalf, while Harry, Ron and Hermione were next to Dumbledore, with Snape standing a short distance away, a look deep disfavor on his face. Professor McGonagall had gone, at Dumbledore's request, to the infirmary, to be checked out by Madam Pomfrey.

The two wizards were discussing how Gandalf had come to find himself in this world. Harry was struck, seeing them seated together, talking, how much alike the two men were: both had the appearance of age but seemed unusually spry; both had kindly eyes, though Dumbledore's were hidden somewhat behind his half-moon spectacles; both, Harry had noted, held great command over the magic of fire and light. Gandalf, even more so than Dumbledore, maintained the appearance of a wizard of light in his whitened raiment.

"It wasn't that difficult to escape the two who confronted me," Gandalf was saying to them, when Harry's attention returned to what he was saying. "Once I realized that their intention was not to reunite me with Frodo and Sam, but something much more sinister."

"I thought for a moment we were back in Fangorn, and that Mr. Dumbledore was Gandalf come to rescue us, when we first seen him," Pippin said, laughing. "Sam, where did you and Mister Frodo find yourself when you got here?"

"We were in a forest as well," Sam said, remembering. "But it were strange, because we were making our way up Cirith Ungol, with Gollum, and there was nothing very forest-y about that place."

Dumbledore looked at Sam with some interest. "Do you think you could take us to the place where you first found yourself, Mr. Gamgee?"

"I s'pose," Sam said, a bit uncertain. "But one bit of forest looks a lot like every other bit of it."

"I have every confidence in your ability," Dumbledore said, standing. Soon, the group was walking out the eastern exit of the castle, near the greenhouses, and heading toward the point they had exited the Forbidden Forest, which Sam remembered had been near a large above-ground house; evidently Hagrid's cabin.

"Not sure what good this is going to do," Harry heard Pippin mumble to Merry. "It's so close to dinner, it's hardly worth the trip 'til tomorrow."

As they neared the edge of the forest, however, the smell of burning wood alerted them to some problem. "Didn't see any smoke as we were walking up," Ron muttered to Harry. "Maybe it's just Hagrid's fireplace."

But there was no smoke coming from the cabin's chimney, and a few moments later Hagrid himself appeared, to the consternation of the hobbits.

"Troll!" both Merry and Pippin said, catching Sam's arms and pointing to the half-giant as he walked toward them.

"It's alright," Harry told them. "He's a friend, he's not a troll."

"If he's not a troll," Sam said, wonderingly, "he's the biggest man I've ever seen."

"He's a half-giant," Hermione said gently. "Some giants are two or three times as tall as Hagrid is."

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said, seeing the headmaster at the front of the group. "D'yeh smell that, too?"

"It seems to be coming from the forest, Hagrid," Dumbledore said in reply.

"Yeh, a bit worrisome, if you ask me," Hagrid said, then did a double-take as he saw the hobbits. "Who are these little fellows, then?"

"More visitors," Harry said.

Hagrid chuckled. "They ain't lookin' fer a fight, are they?" None of the hobbits came up much past Hagrid's knees.

"I could tie one hand behind me back, if it'd make you feel any better," Pippin quipped, looking up into Hagrid's face, a smile quirking at his lips.

"Nah, I'll pass," Hagrid said, laughing. "I'd be bloomin' embarrassed if yeh beat —"

There was a roar from the Forbidden Forest, a sound like some fierce beast. All heads turned toward it. After a moment, Galdalf moaned softly, "Oh, no."

"What is it," Dumbledore asked him. "Did you recognize that sound?"  
"Yes," the white wizard said, heavily. "I thought I would never hear a sound like that again. The last time I did…I died."

"Died?" Ron said, startled.

Harry looked toward the forest, fearful of whatever it was that could kill a wizard like Gandalf, yet glad that, whatever it was, they would be able to face it together.

There was the sound of tearing in the darkness of the Forest, of trees being broken and the roar of flames, as a light began to penetrate from its depths. Then, suddenly, the trees along the edge burst apart, catching fire as a huge humanoid stepped into view, its deep red skin shrouded in smoke and darkness. It towered over the nearby trees, and over Hagrid's cabin. It might have been thirty feet tall, by Harry's reckoning.

"Oh my God!" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth to avoid shrieking. "What _is_ that thing?!"

"That — is a Balrog," Gandalf said, his expression darkening with a growing anger. "A demon from the ancient days of my world."

"What — what does it want?" Ron whispered, aghast at the sight of it.

"Nothing more or less, I would say," Dumbledore surmised, "than to kill us all."


End file.
